


New Beginnings, Unknowing

by TempusNoKitsune



Series: We're What? [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: 3PO's many complaints, Asexual Relationship, BB-8 - Freeform, BB-8 feels insulted, Bickering, Confusion, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Droids, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Finn's great timing, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Kisses, Luke considers C-3PO and R2-D2 as family, Oblivious Droids, Poe Dameron is Really a Sweetheart, Poe is like a droid whisperer, Poe ships it, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, R2 and Luke are very close, R2 and Rey are BFFs, So Married, Stormpilot, Their Love Is So, Transformation, sassy!R2-D2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-05-14 04:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 27,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5729803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempusNoKitsune/pseuds/TempusNoKitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>R2-D2's not sure what's happened. Waking up in a way that he never has before, he struggles to remember how he ended up where he is. But that's not half of what waking up has faced him with...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Artoo's Awakening

R2’s fingers curled subconsciously, his arms slipping off the edge of the bed to open wide in a stretch.

_Wrong. This was wrong._

His shoulders pushed back against the firm mattress, back arching up as though he had some reason to feel uncomfortable, or muscles that he would feel the need to stretch.

_Wrong. Terribly wrong._

Bending at the middle, the astromech rose to a sitting position, odd coloured eyes slowly blinking open. R2’s head slowly twisted as he surveyed the room, noting that it was unusually dark, and completely vacant save for the droid.

_Wrong. Wrong._

His circuitry was humming, the currents causing his internal systems to warm. He let his eyes fluttered closed for a moment, the energy slowing and his boards cooling with practiced ease. That was when he realized.

  
R2 had closed his eyes. Eyes like a human has, not the visual sensors he had lived with for so many turns. His head dropped forward a bit, proof that it was attached to some kind of appendage that would allow for such a movement as looking down. Slightly tanned fingers curled, and uncurled, curled, and uncurled, with R2’s will. Hands, like human modeled hands.

  
His head snapped back up with the sound of footsteps approaching the large sliding door, which was fitted with a small window. A window just large enough for R2 to catch a glimpse of the unfamiliar character. He quickly fell back, flinching slightly as the top of his head bumped against something hard. Flinching! He had actually felt the bump!  
The sound of heeled boots clacking against the floor echoed through the metal room, and R2 willed himself to keep his eyes closed as the figure approached the bed. There was a sequence of beeps and clicks over his head, supposedly some sort of electronic system meant to monitor him.

  
“Seems like you’re doing well R2-D2. Some astromech droids don’t make it through the change well. I’m sure your master will be very pleased to hear so. Mine too, I think. A success like yours is worth noting.” There was a faint sound of a heavily exhaled breath, before the steps slowly retreated. “Also, you don’t have to pretend that you’re asleep, or shut down. We’ve supplied you with enough power that you should feel energized enough.”

  
R2 slowly opened his new eyes, just catching the flowing back of a long, darkly coloured jacket. Of course the first words that really struck his mind were the statement that he had “made it through the change well”. What change? Was this incident the one that led to his new humanoid body?

  
Once again slowly lifting himself into a sitting position, he began to wrack his memory banks, trying to think back on what had happened just before his waking up. He could clearly bring up the data that was given to him about a mission just past the planet Naboo. R2 had followed suit into a large aircraft, temporarily serving the pilots of the resistance at General Organa’s order. His memory supplied him with the image of BB-8 rolling to his side, just on the heels of Master Dameron, and a rich red, mechanical hand waving to him from the ship opposite as the platform slowly lifted up until secure.

  
He was placed up near the accessible top chambers of the aircraft. As an astromech droid this was where he could be most effective. However, over each turn of his life R2 had developed a sort of personality, most likely due to the fact that every master that he had ever accompanied had detested the idea of wiping his memory bank, if not for the fact that he was a good companion, then for the vast amount of irreplaceable and invaluable information that he held. So, instead of simply staying where he had been placed, he roamed about the airship.

  
The pilots didn’t seem to mind, most of them warm and welcoming to his presence, while others simply shooed him away. R2 let out a string of garbled beeps as he came up on the cabin where Poe had been placed. Due to the pilot's most reputable flying R2 had come to know the man, mostly through Poe’s interaction with the general and through his own interactions with BB-8. However, that was enough for R2 to go on.

  
The astromech rolled into the room, his tripod figure of wheels gliding smoothly against the floor until he had pulled up beside the leather seat where the pilot was stationed. He let out another series of electronic beeps, and Poe gently set his hand on the top of R2’s dome, a smile curving up the edge of his lips.

  
“Hey R2.”

  
No questions were asked of course. Everyone who had been around the resistance’s base for long enough after R2 had gained enough power to actually be active, knew of R2’s behavior and how it was recepted by the general herself. R2 was hardly treated like a droid anymore it seemed. He spent most of the journey there in that cabin, shutting down once to maintain energy status, BB-8 at his side. (If Poe was somewhere, it was very likely to find the small round droid in his presence.)

  
This particular mission had little to no risks associated with it, the only possible bumps being a small asteroid field. However, that area was completely avoidable with a good pilot. The ships were simply hauling people and machinery to an area where a separate base was to be established, something of a backup camp due to the fact that their opponents had more than likely caught wind of the current housing base of the general despite the bases being kept secret and heavily guarded. This way there would be little chance of a mishap.

  
R2 could just make out the surface of a slightly green tinted planet through the front facing windows of the ship. He let out a string of high pitched beeps, and Poe looked over at the droid, a small smile on his face.

  
“I’ve never been before, so I guess I’m sort of excited too R2.”

  
BB-8 let out a low whine, and spun his head once in a sort of agreement. The co-pilot glanced over at the two droids- which were now stationed on either side of Poe’s seat -before turning back to look out the windows, giving his head a small shake. The man had no clue how to understand Binary.

  
The large group of ships landed smoothly, the long day darkening into night as the last of the cargo was unloaded onto the planets unusually green surface. R2-D2 hadn’t seen so much green since he was on Endor. His head turned slightly as he heard the familiar sound of mechanical joints, and his sensors picked up a familiar feed. C-3PO waddled over to where the astromech was stationed, already uttering complaints about the trip over to the planet. R2 turned his head back in the direction of the other members of the resistance, some turning and heading back towards the two droids who had stayed by the openings of the cargo doors of the ships in case any more help was needed.

  
A small group was to go back to the main base, where they would look over the primary stronghold of the resistance as well as set up connections to the new base. Poe’s earlier co-pilot made his way onto a slightly smaller ship than the one that they had traveled to the planet on. The man made a small waving motion to signal to the droids that they should follow him. C-3PO threw a skeptical and nervous glance over his shoulder before reluctantly following behind R2, who was already at the top of the boarding ramp.

  
R2-D2 was shown to the main internal power systems of the ship as the only astromech droid that would be aboard, while C-3PO followed the pilots into the cockpit. R2’s head spun once, taking in his surroundings in the mechanized room. An array of vibrantly coloured lights lit up the room, making it bright despite the lack of lighting. There were several input ports where he would be able to access the ship's main servers, which made his job that much easier. It seemed like the vessel had been designed with the robot mechanics in mind.

  
An unfamiliar face of a young boy with a messy mop of light brown hair poked around the frame of the mechanized door. He couldn’t have been older than 17 at the most. Though, R2 may not be the most knowledgeable on organics, so he may have been slightly off with his calculation (that was really more of C-3PO’s forte anyway, R2 had little to no use for that kind of information). The boy was wearing a dark brown jacket with what looked like a handmade resistance patch sewed onto the sleeve.

  
“Hi. Wow. Okay, so you’re the R2 unit. Wow. Okay cool. Cool.” The boy stammered a bit, his voice was a light tenor, his words twisted. He had a dipping and slightly awkward accent that made his mouth into strange shapes as he talked.

  
R2 let out one long beep, an affirmation, before plugging into the systems as the ship started up. He ran a full check of the vessel, finding no abnormalities.

  
“Um. I’m, uh, I’m Arkin. Resistance mechanic in training.” The boy’s dark brown eyes, which seemed to swallow up the whites of a normal human’s eyes, darted around the room as if trying to make sense of the systems surrounding him. “They told me to come in here. That I could help?”

  
He seemed very unsure, and R2 let out a few questioning beeps, something that was lost on the boy. Arkin shook his head, his eyes dropping to the floor as he moved over to one of the control panels that was above R2’s reach.

  
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re saying. I suppose I could guess, but I hardly think that it would do either of us any good…”

  
_Really?_ R2 thought. _They’re going to give me an organic with no way to communicate to each other? Those bastards._

  
He let his head spin around once, flashing his sensor in what was meant to be something of a reassuring manner. He really didn’t need any help, so the boy would be fine. The ship ascended smoothly, only going through a small rough patch as they exited the atmosphere. The boy sunk to the floor, something that R2 found strange, and beckoned to him.

  
_I’m not a pet. I do not move to be coddled._ He beeped once, but the boy continued to wave his hand at the droid as though it would entice him to move over. However, R2 was saved the humility of being treated as a pet as the ship jumped into hyper-drive, the boy’s hand slamming down onto the floor as they began traveling at light speed. _Some mechanic. Seems like he’s never been on a ship before._

  
The rest of the trip seemed to go smoothly. R2’s assistance was hardly requested, and the boy didn’t beckon him to come over again. However, R2 did roll over to Arkin’s side beeping at him in a way that he was sure had to make sense, despite the fact that he couldn’t understand the direct translation of the droid speak, in order to aid the boy as he fiddled with the switches.

  
Then, without any warning, a high pitched siren began to wail, the majority of the light in the room shifting to a vibrant red. Arkin’s head snapped up, eyes shifting away from the controls in a panic. Without hesitation the boy scrambled out of the room, leaving R2 to tend to the mechanisms himself. Wimp. You can’t leave your post at a time like this, you idiot. Quickly plugging into the drive of the vessel, R2 scanned the ship for damage, finding an oxygen leak on the belly of the ship, and a dangerous rip down the machine’s side.

  
The pilot's voice echoed through the cabin. “R2, do you think you can get the weapons online? My connection is down.”

  
R2 let out a garbled string of beeps as the ship shook violently, quickly connecting the cockpit to the weapons system, and getting the guns online. He let out another string of beeps, disliking his position and the fact that despite what he could feel, and the damage he could see via the ship’s database, he was uninformed of what was going on.

  
“R2, it seems as though we’re being shot at!” C-3PO’s concerned trill sounded out over the sound system. “The pilot requests your assistance in activating the ship's shields.” The ship once again shook violently, and a notification took over R2’s vision, showing new damage to the back of the ship, dangerously close to the power systems. “R2 hurry!”

  
He twisted his probe, sorting through the mechanisms embedded in the ship's mainframe, working as quickly as possible. With no time to notify the front of the ship, R2 began to raise the ship's defense, but the shield was too slow.

  
The next shot from behind hit the power systems directly and ignited the spare fuel cartridges that they were toting back to the base. In a moment R2 was flung back from his station, ripples of electronic currents climbing up his probe and running through his system. His vocalization and movement capabilities spun out of control, filling the room with a jumbled mess of deafeningly loud Binary, his dome spinning uncontrollably.

  
The ship shook once more violently and the lights sputtered out along with the sounds of the engine as R2 was thrown back against one of the metal panels. Then there was an unsettling sound before a high pitched whine gave way to a rocking explosion. R2 could vaguely make out the pilots harried words, the high whine of a young boy’s voice, and C-3PO’s frightened babbling over the sound of his malfunctioning systems. A shock ran through his circuits, and R2 let out a short screaming noise...and then...everything went black.


	2. I'm Not Panicking, I Don't Panic

R2-D2 did not panic. Panicking was his counterparts job, and he did a damn good job at it too. R2 was one to keep his head on straight (figuratively speaking of course, due to the fact that his head was meant to spin). He came up with the plans. He took risks. He was not panicking just because of this new form. No. Not at all.

  
Shit.

  
He slowly raised himself to a sitting position once again. He wasn’t human. There was no way that he was human. R2 let his eyes fluttered closed, focusing on the faint whir of his inner mechanics. He could feel familiar circuitry. So he was still a droid then, at least there was that bit of comfort.

  
Staring down at his new legs, which were covered by a thin white sheet, he wondered how to use them. He had seen legs work countless times, but it was safe to say that he did not know how they worked. R2 twitched the legs experimentally, berating himself when he jumped slightly at the sudden movement and strange sensation of having extra appendages.

  
Tanned fingers gripped the starchy sheet, and R2 relished in the fact that he could actually tell what the sheet felt like. Even his fingertips were sensitive to touch, feeling the texture of the covering as he threw the blanket to the side, the fabric brushing against his hand as it fell to the floor. The legs in front of him, covered by crisp white pants, didn’t quite reach the end of the bed.

  
R2 glanced back to the door for a moment before hesitantly swinging his legs over the side of the bed, automatically flinching at the strange feeling. As he slowly pushed up onto his new feet, he suddenly realized just how heavy he was. With sensations running through this new body, and the entirety of his upper half only supported by the two stilt-like appendages now beneath him, R2 found the whole experience very uncomfortable.

  
With his first steps, the new unsteady legs buckled, forcing him to fling his arms out in an attempt to keep himself standing up. He was a little shaky to say the least, but damn him if he was going to let a little bit of inexperience stop him. It wasn’t in his nature.

  
The trip to the door was slow going, sometimes forgoing actually picking up his foot in a step in favour of taking the easier root of simply letting his foot slide against the floor. With his centre of gravity now significantly higher than it had been before, he felt his balance wavering, one hand seemingly permanently affixed to his middle as though it could keep him upright. Just looking at it, the door had seemed much closer than it turned out to be.

  
Within a few feet of the opening, the door slid open, covering neatly tucked into a perfectly sized slit in the wall. Grabbing onto the frame, R2 cautiously leaned out of the room. With his line of vision, he quickly found himself getting frustrated, having to turn his entire body to get a good look down each of the unsettlingly pure white hallways. He slid one foot forward, pausing as a jumble of voices began to fill the empty space. He didn’t recognize the strange dialect.

  
His new hand clung to the wall, gliding against the smooth surface as he blindly made his way towards the strange voices. Each step was a new experience, each sensation, from the feeling of the floor against his bare feet, to the rocking motion that came along with the act of walking. Briefly, R2 wondered just how C-3PO was able to keep himself upright, especially with joints that had a limited range of movement. He commended the droid as he noticed his own difficulty in controlling a body with better mobility. But you can damn well bet that he would never say such a thing aloud.

  
_Speaking of_ , he thought as he peered around the next corner, _where is C-3PO?_ Used to having the golden droid beside him, something felt strangely empty without the familiar presence.

  
Looking down the infinitely stretching hallway, with no other beings in sight, he was starting to get pissed off. R2 was not the most patient...individual. His discomfort was overwhelming, and despite the fact that he could still see the door that he had just walked out of, he felt as though this hallway would go on forever. But thank the maker that someone seemed to sense his “distress”. (He didn’t get distressed. Ha. No, absolutely not.)

  
A human suddenly stepped out from what he could of sworn was just a wall, body covered in a long brown coat that just brushed against the ground.

  
“Oh.” The organic’s brown eyes widened slightly. “Hello, what’s your name?”

  
R2 blinked a few times. Was the human asking him to speak?

  
The others head tilted slightly, mouth turning up into a gentle smile. “Hm?”

  
Speak. The idea seemed foreign now. His mouth dropped open, expecting to hear a slur of his usual Binary, he found himself surprised by the garbled mess of electronic noise that slipped out of his mouth.

  
The human shook its head, the smile still on it’s face. “I’m doctor Valurien.” The organic held out it’s hand, and R2 eyed the appendage skeptically.

  
“Alright, Alright. I understand. I’m just going to check your wrist okay?”

  
R2 stayed rooted to the spot as the doctor stepped forward, cautiously moving to pull the arm that had been glued to R2’s stomach, towards him. Doctor Valurien gently let R2’s hand settle on the palm of his own as he checked a small red band that was fastened around his wrist.

  
“R2-D2? You don’t look very much like a droid to me.” The smile that had been used as a sort of comfort stretched a bit more. “So I suppose you’re one of the droids that was successfully transferred into one of the new humanoid units. Kaila told me about you. I’m the head around here, and you, my friend, are a great success.”

  
R2 let his head tilt back slightly, letting his new face convey what he would have otherwise tried to vocalize.

  
“I suppose that you don’t know what that means? Would you allow me to explain?”

  
He let his head fall forward as he had seen many of his masters do before when they were in agreement with something.

  
“Good, good. You’re doing very well. I’ll help you with the vocalization. Most likely, you’re still getting acquainted with your new mechanisms, which really shouldn't take long.” The doctor dropped his hand, and swiftly turned on his heel. “Follow me please.”

  
R2 let the hand fall to his side, fingers curling until his hand was in a tight fist by his leg, the other hand continuing to trail against the wall as a security as he began to follow the doctor. He began to notice the small screens on the wall was the slowly glided by. Each had a number, a colour lit, and a name.

  
Siv, Kai, M5-2, R5-52, BB-265, Adam.

  
A mix of organics and droids? What kind of hospital was this? Or perhaps this was what a hospital's were like. To be perfectly honest, R2 had never actually been in a hospital before, and he had hardly heard anything about them. They were avoided if at all possible. No one seemed to be particularly keen on them aside from the doctors themselves.

  
“You see,” Doctor Valurien’s voice seemed to echo through the hallway, making R2’s head snap back to the front. “You were incredibly damaged in an unfortunate shipwreck. Beyond recognition as an R2 unit, we thought it would be impossible to salvage you, however...somehow, most of your inner mechanisms, including your memory card, were almost completely unharmed.” The man threw a short glance over his shoulder. “Strange isn’t it?”

  
Suddenly the doctor stopped, turning towards a door and scanning a small piece of plastic against a red square on the curving wall. R2 stumbled over his new feet, nearly falling as he struggled to stop himself.

  
“Anyhow, due to the fact that you were able to survive such a violent wreck, we decided that you would be the perfect candidate for one of the newest droid model shells. And, as you can tell, your transformation was very successful.” The man’s shoulders seemed to square back a bit, and R2 could bet that the man was probably very proud of himself in that moment, but…

  
“What about C-3PO?” He nearly skipped a step, stride faltering. _Sweet maker...holy shit...was that him?_

  
The doctor didn’t even look back. “C-3PO?”

  
R2 shook his head. _Damn._ “C-3PO. The other droid that was on that ship. Where is he?” _Don’t tell me...he can’t be gone. Stupid, fucking...that damn protocol droid, he wasn’t going to get away from R2 that easily. No fucking way._

  
Doctor Valurien simply continued walking, R2 on his heels. The silence was deafening.

  
“Damnit, answer me!”

  
“See?” He could hear the smile on the man’s face, it made him want to smack the guy. “You’re already doing better with vocalization.”

  
R2 let out a rough growl. “I don’t care! If this was just a ploy to get me talking then you better hope you have a good security system, because I am going to kill you!”

  
A deep laugh sounded through the hallway, which actually contained visible doors fitted with small windows like the one that R2 had had on the door to the room where he had woken up. “Alright, alright. That was a bit cruel of me I suppose. But you know, I’ve never known two droids to be as attached as you two are?” The doctor shook his head. “The first thing that he did when he woke up was to call out for you. Not a master or a doctor, but another droid. You must have been through an awful lot together.”

  
Relief coursed through his circuits, where his chips and mechanics had been rapidly warming his inner cooling system kicked in, making his tightened up joints relax. “More than you know.”

  
The man stopped just at the end of the hallway. To the doctor’s right was a door like all of the others, the only difference was that this door’s edge was pressed against the end of the hallway, a bit of an awkward placement. Instead of being evenly spaced as the other doors were, it was off by a few feet, making the gap between this door and the last uneven.

  
“I’m sure.” Valurien nodded. “I’d also like to commend you on how quickly you’ve turned around. Walking, talking. You’re practically a professional, one of the most successful transplants we’ve ever had. Though, I will say that your friend probably had a bit of an easier transition due to his model. Anyway, feel free to go in. We’ll be monitoring you for a bit, until we find that you’re stable enough to leave. If you need anything feel free to call one of the nurses.”

  
R2 gave the man a quick nod, something that felt extremely awkward to him, but seemed to be received well by the doctor. The man walked away, leaving R2 standing in front of the door. All of the sudden he was struck by a feeling of helplessness. He didn’t know what he was doing. He wasn’t too entirely sure how his own body worked. And now he was being entirely irrational and ridiculous. He was strong, always had been, always will be. Besides, just beyond the door in front of him was no where near the unknown, nothing scary, just C-3PO. And the day that he found C-3PO scary, well he wouldn’t have to worry about anything because the universe would be ending anyway.

  
R2 tried to peek through the small window, finding that due to the odd placement of the door the room was slightly larger, and the only thing that he could really see was the wall directly across from where he was standing. His hand slid over the small pad by the door, an area that blended into the white wall, the only thing setting it apart was a slight indentation. Fingers pressing in, there was a small click before the door slid open, giving him room to step forward. He was still a bit shaky with his steps, something that he was sure would fade in time as he developed the skill and got more used to this new body.

  
And, the room was completely empty. Was this just another cruel joke? R2 may be a droid that does well on his own, but he couldn’t really say the same for C-3PO, besides he had been with the other droid for a good while. What would the protocol droid do without him?

  
He turned his head, surveying every inch of the room. His first thought was about how much bigger this room was than the one that he had woken up in, which was completely unfair and uncalled for. The second was the fact that the room seemed unlived in. There was no sign that anyone had ever been in the room at all.

  
R2 will forever deny the fact that he was startled enough that he jumped slightly at the sound of a standard door opening and closing, unprepared for the fact that there was a bathroom attached to the sterile cabin.

  
“Oh, hello.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Start squinting for that relationship.  
> I hope you enjoyed, and feedback is always appreciated.
> 
> ~Castor


	3. So, That's New

To be honest, this was probably the weirdest thing that R2 had ever experienced, which is most definitely saying something. The humanoid now standing across from him shared the exact same voice as his counterpart, but his appearance suddenly struck R2 with the reality of their situation. Sure, he had understood that he was no longer in his old “body”, the limbs that he could see were evidence enough of that, but he hadn’t given much thought to what he actually looked like now.

Aside from the foreign feeling of walking, and standing, on two limbs that seemed to completely defy the forces of nature, R2 hadn’t even caught so much as a glimpse of his new figure. As blind as he was, it took him very little time to apply what he was seeing to his own “body”, though it seemed very wrong, and was incredibly hard to imagine. Yes, he knew what his new form was meant to look like...it was just something that seemed so far fetched that despite his comprehension he felt the truth to the idea that he wouldn’t really believe it until he saw it for himself. He focused on the other droid, repeating the name C-3PO in his head over and over in order to convince himself of the truth that stood in front of him.

3PO stood at strict attention, his toes turned out slightly and his arms still coming to settle in a bent fashion at his midsection. As he walked forward a bit more, R2 noticed that the other droid was still walking as though his joints were as rigid as before, kind of like his pants were too tight. And suddenly, he realized that C-3PO had no idea that he was actually in a humanoid form. Well, this was going to be interesting.

“I’m feeling quite well now sir. In fact, I’m feeling much better than I ever have before!” The droid’s eyes lit up, a smile making his lips stretch upwards, small dimples appearing on either side of his slender face.

R2 surveyed his counterpart, eyes gliding up and down the others form. He started from the toes and slowly made his way upwards, distastefully noting that the other droid was still a good bit taller than him. C-3PO’s new body was slender and had a delicate look to it while somehow still showing an underlying air of certain strength combined with a sophisticated poise. His waist was elegantly narrow, and his shoulders broad, giving him the look of some high class organic. 3PO’s face was slender, with high cheekbones and arched eyebrows. Golden-blonde hair fell down just to the top of his shoulder in a tight braid. Perhaps the most striking part of the new character in front of him were the bright golden eyes, now shimmering in concordance to his smile.

R2’s eyes narrowed slightly. Since 3PO was unaware of his own predicament, there was no way he could know that it was in fact his partner of some 70 or so odd turns that was standing before him, besides, the doctor had said that 3PO had called out for him, but never mentioned that they had informed 3PO of his whereabouts. And then there was the fact that 3PO was treating him as some kind of nurse, and the evident use of the honorific, “sir”. He had to hold back the smile that threatened to take over his face. What was the harm in playing with him a little? This was going to be fun.

R2 let out a small cough as though clearing out his throat. “Ah, good.” He squared back his shoulders, playing up the whole medical crew role.

“Excuse me sir, but if you don’t mind me asking…” 3PO’s gaze wavered slightly as though he were deciding whether to ask the question aloud, or continue to keep it to himself. His new body made his emotions much easier to read, the complexity of his personality increased ten fold simply with the use of a face which allowed him to convey a feeling through movement. “But, have you heard any word on the R2 unit that was on the starship with me?”

His eyebrows raised, genuinely interested in the direction that the conversation was going. “R2 unit? That seems a strange thing to be asking about, don’t you think?” R2 remained stick straight, working to convince himself just as much as he had C-3PO that he would carry on this conversation as someone other than himself.

The other droid moved back slightly on his right foot as though he had been struck by the words, the golden braid bobbled with the movement. “I...well...I...Sir, you see, this R2 unit and I have been together for a very long time…” 3PO then seemed to struggle for something else to say, something to make his argument seem more valid to an organic. “I’m afraid that my master would be very unhappy if I were to return without him.”

“Ah, is that so?” R2 took a step towards the other droid. “Is that it? Nothing else.”

C-3PO shook his head, though he looked a bit more like he was trying to convince himself than he was R2. This was something that R2 had trained himself to pick up on over the years, and would be very surprised to see anyone else recognize the tiny spark of emotion hidden behind 3PO’s surprisingly good lying skills. He couldn’t deny that he really did like pushing the other droids buttons.

R2 nodded, recalling what doctor Valurien had said earlier. “Well, I suppose you’re talking about that mangled piece of machinery we found? I wouldn’t have thought that to be an R2 unit…” He had to turn away as a devious smile threatened to spread across his face.

“Mangled…” 3PO’s voice started out quiet, then rose to a high pitched whine. “Oh sweet maker, curse my metal body! R2’s gone!”

 _Drama queen ._ R2 tried to distract himself from the laughter bubbling up in his chest, focusing rather on the sensation that he was able to make by pressing his nails into the palm of his hand. The droid behind him continued wailing, and as the hysterics continued R2’s controlled laughter became a feeling more akin of fondness. C-3PO was really broken up about his absence, despite the fact that most times that may seem to do nothing more than bicker and pick on one another. He’d played around long enough, as much as he liked to have fun with the other droid if he was to let 3PO go on for much longer he would probably short out.

“That stupid little bucket of bolts! I should have been with him!”

R2, surprisingly, turned smoothly on his heel, facing the newly blond humanoid once again. 3PO’s hands were covering his face, and his body was twisting back and forth as though the motion would help to relieve some of the hysteria. “I take offense to that. Who are you to say that I’m stupid? After all we’ve been through, I think I get the right to call you the stupid one.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in, those golden eyes slowly becoming visible once again. “Sir. I know you may think me just a droid -as you should- but I do assure you that my devastation is real.”

“You think I’m making fun of you?”

3PO froze, shrinking back in a form of submission that had been laser imprinted into his primary functions. “Sir…”

R2 shook his head, just catching a glimpse of the darkened mop of hair sitting atop his head. “Don’t call me that. Makes me feel funny. Just go back to calling me names or something.”

“Excuse me, I don’t seem to understand…”

There went R2’s patience.

“Damnit 3PO!” _Thick headed idiot._ R2 turned, looking around in an effort to find some kind of mirror. As is his luck, there was nothing of the sort in the room, most surfaces just matted soft colours. However, his circuits buzzed as he caught sight of a silver tray out of the corner of his eyes, moving over to pick it up before thrusting it out in front of the other droid. “Take a look at yourself will you?”

3PO staggered back a few steps at the sudden motion before bending forward to peer at his reflection. “What is this? If you don’t mind my saying, it does seem to be an odd picture.”

“Oh come on! And you called me stupid.” He grumbled. “That’s you! This is just a tray dumbass, it’s your reflection that you’re seeing!”

“No sir, I’m afraid you must be mistaken, I’m just a simple protocol droid.”

Simple, oh that’s real kicker. “I always thought you a bit smarter than that 3PO. This is just a random tray, you saw me pick it up! It’s not a picture, it’s your reflection.”

Speaking of, R2 caught sight of the slightly disfigured image staring back at him. Eyebrows furrowed, and face twisted in a sort of aggravation. Even from the silver surface he could make out the colours of his odd coloured eyes, one red, one blue, set against lightly tanned skin. R2 couldn’t quite tell the colour of his hair due to the slight glare of light against the tray, but it was then that he noticed his awkward limbs shaking with little input from any of his sensors or willed controls. It seems that this new body was making movement on it’s own, and R2 didn’t like it.

“That-that can’t be me...I’m not-...I’m just...Oh my.”

R2 shook his head once, as if the motion might ground him. The thought that this may be what panic felt like struck him like a starship. Was this how 3PO felt all the time? No wonder he was so whiney…

“Then you are…?”

R2 slowly, mechanically, moved the tray down, the strain of his joints audible. He tossed the tray to the side, feeling as though the metal had burned him. What he hadn’t been expecting was to be wrapped up in an awkward embrace, at least it was awkward for him. R2’s face was pressed into 3PO’s chest, his arms pinned against his side as the other droid’s arms wrapped around him.

“3PO…”

“Oh R2 it is you! I thought you were gone for sure!” Then a hard fist came down on the top of his head as 3PO pushed away from him. R2’s hand automatically went to cradle the now tender spot on his head.

“Ow!”

“You worthless nearsighted scrap pile!”

“What the hell! Why would you do that?” The two were toe to toe, new eyes full of expression that they had never known was conveyable. “It hurts!”

To prove his point he punctuated the statement with the collision of his fist against 3PO’s chest, effectively making the droid take a few unsteady steps backward.

“And you can stop walking like that too!”

C-3PO looked rightfully confused, one of his hands coming up to gently brush against the spot where R2’s fist had struck his chest.

“We can feel now, so be careful with your actions. I know you’re used to pushing me around, but watch out, because now I have hands and feet too.” He flashed the blonde a lopsided smirk.

3PO made a short huffing noise, straightening up once again. “Mind your manners would you? You’ve always been such a rude little thing. Now that people can understand you, you need to be mindful of what you say.”

R2 instinctively rolled his eyes, nearly losing his balance as the new visual sensors moved independently from the movement of his head. “Yep, glad you made it through too buddy.”

3PO gave his head a little shake, experimentally moving his arms in little increments as though to make sure that he had actually been able to extend them to hold R2’s figure just then. “I said nothing of the sort, I was simply worried that our master would most certainly melt me down if I were to return without you, regardless of how much trouble you cause.”

The blonde haughtily stuck his nose in the air, and R2 let out a snort. This new noise was followed by the scrunching of his nose at the odd sensation, yet another new appendage that he would have to be getting used to.R2’s eyes shifted awkwardly back to the entrance to the room. At this point he had no clue what to do. There was no business to tend to, no master, and no getting out of here until they both proved to be stable units. Even then, where would they go from here?

“At least you haven’t changed on the inside.” Damn that was sappy . R2 was hardly ever that sappy, and it showed as C-3PO’s holier-than-thou stance faltered. Though he seemed to recover quickly, seemingly disregarding the sudden drop in R2’s walls.

“Yes well, unfortunately, I can say the same for you.” Despite the less than friendly words R2 could just make out the slight pull of a smile at the edge of the others lips.

“Yeah, well someone has to push you out of your comfort zone.”

3PO hummed, shoulders slowly relaxing as the two slowly warmed in each other's presence after the tense moment of 3PO’s discovery. “You wouldn’t want me to get bored would you?”

His mouth turned up. A familiar question. “Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the squinting becomes more intense. Use the force my friends.  
> I hope that you enjoyed, and remember that feedback is always appreciated.
> 
> ~Castor


	4. Let's Get Out Of Here

R2 stretched his legs out, even with all of his limbs stretched to the limit he was still a few inches short of each end of the bed. Meanwhile, his eyes were busy following the unnerving pacing of his counterpart. After the initial shock of their situation, perhaps a couple of hours of recounting things, and R2 pushing the boundaries of his new body's ability to annoy the other droid, C-3PO had gone into something of a panic. The protocol droid’s systems found no way to cope with the situation, and his already high strung manner had him pacing the room like crazy.

“You’re starting to make me kind of dizzy.”

If his words got through there was no show of it. The other just continued pacing, hurriedly speaking in hushed tones, sometimes the words peaked in a high crescendo before falling once again. R2 let out an exaggerated sigh, something he had obviously never been able to do before. How many functions did this new body have, and how many of them were followed by this strange of a sensation?

“Hey, 3PO. What about telling me what you're thinking about so that I can help rather than just muttering to yourself like a droid with a malfunctioning motivator?”

Once again it seemed as though R2’s words fell on deaf ears, and he wasn't having any of that. It wasn’t unusual for the other droid to disregard what he was saying, but at least then he got the confirmation that he had been heard. So, it was time for the hands on approach. And if R2 was being completely honest, the hands on approach was the one he not only preferred, but believed was the most effective. He pushed himself up, rapidly swinging his legs over the edge of his bed, forgetting that despite their smaller shape that they were still heavy.

R2’s head tilted slightly, watching the path that 3PO was wearing into the floor, before placing himself right on said others path. If his balance hadn’t been as good as it was in this new body, the two would have toppled to the floor as 3PO unseeingly ran right into him. The shorter’s hands went up, supporting the taller droid by clamping down on either side of his waist.

“Woah there! Watch where you’re going buddy.” Golden eyes stared down at him in a mix of confusion, shock, and maybe that was a little bit of fear? R2 tucked a stray strand of golden hair back behind 3PO’s new ear. It happened almost out of his own accord, but it didn’t feel strange. “What’s up?”

The protocol droid’s head gave a little shake, as though he was snapping himself out of some kind of stupor. “First of all I would like to point out how rude it was to step in front of me like that, you could have simply asked me to stop you know. Your manners leave much to be desired.”

“Tried that. Despite what you may think I don’t always jump to action. Most of the time, yes, but not always.”

“Anyhow...I’m wondering what we’re going to do.” 3PO’s arms slowly relaxed from their stiff position crooked at his sides until his hands rested over R2’s own. The astromech released his grip on the others waist.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we are stranded in an unfamiliar hospital with no way to contact the Resistance base. Do you not see R2? We’re doomed! We’ll be left here forever!”

R2 put his new eyes to good use after that, the odd coloured visual sensors rolling up to the ceiling. “We’ll be fine.”

The taller took a step back, putting some distance between the two. Perhaps it was the proximity in which they had spent so many turns before this that made such a closeness of their new bodies something that was neither uncomfortable nor unfamiliar. 3PO huffed. 

“I wish I possessed your confidence.”

R2 stuck out his tongue, the new appendage tinted a slightly blue color, and strangely rough and dry against his lips. “I’ve already been thinking of ways to get out of here anyway.”

“Oh no.” The golden haired droid took yet another step back, hands coming up to his shoulders in a weak form of the universal gesture for surrender. “I’m not going along with another one of your plans. You’ll get us killed!”

“Blah blah blah. Do you want to get out of here or not?”

“Don’t get snippy with me you little trash bucket.”

“Not even remotely bucket shaped anymore.”

“You are on the inside.”

“Whatever makes you happy.”

R2 turned on his heel, his walking becoming more fluid and natural with every step he took. It must have been hardwired into this new bodies systems. R2 thanked the Maker for that, he didn’t have the time to start all of this from scratch. His feet carried him over to the door, pushing up a bit on his toes to look down the stark white hallway through the small window on the room’s door.

“The halls are usually empty. The only person I ran into was a doctor who led me into your room. Granted, it probably didn’t take very long to find me, but I also wasn’t very fast then either.”

“I sincerely hope you are not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

The shorter droid waved his hand in a motion for 3PO to come closer. “We go out into the hallway.”

“Is that your plan? Run away in plain sight? Oh Maker help me! I’m going to be melted down for sure!”

“Quit whining and follow me.” R2 pressed the small grey pad next to the door, the metal surface tucking itself into the wall with a small rush of air. First poking his head out, dark hair falling over his visual sensors, he deemed the short corridor safe.

The astromech made the hand motion for 3PO to follow once again before slipping out of the room, and padding quietly down the hallway in his still bare feet. R2 knew that 3PO would follow him, 3PO always followed him. And with only a few seconds delay there was a harried voice following him, and the sound of hastened footsteps. He turned back slightly to throw a shush at his counterpart, eyes hardening to convey that the droid needed to shut up.

R2 listened hard, head cocking slightly to the side as his ears worked to pick up any sort of sound. Eyes slipping closed for a minute, all focus went to his audio sensors, but there was nothing. A small smirk crossed his face as he peeked out into the new hallway, setting off in the opposite direction of they way that he had come to 3PO’s room. He could feel the golden haired droid’s uncertainty as they started to move down a new path, the uneven steps a telltale sign that the others nerves were rising.

Normally R2 would simply press on with a joke, a reassurement, something to ease the tension, but he didn’t want to risk breaking the silence that currently served as their only cover. So, he wracked his new system until he found something of an almost instantaneous form of comfort. His surprisingly larger hand reached out behind him, sensors picking up 3PO’s presence, and closed around the lithe hand of his counterpart. For a moment there was a bit of an awkward stillness, a jolt in their fluid motion, a skipping step, before the other droids hand curled back around his own, allowing himself to be led forward. It was strangely pleasant, how odd.

R2 came to a slow stop at the end of the hallway, once again peeking around the curve before walking on. Lips turned up in a triumphant smile as his eyes located a large glass door which seemed to open up into a lobby area. They were close, taking the direct route was most definitely the quickest and most efficient. They were just lucky that-

Then the echo of footsteps was clearly audible through the maze of hallways.

“Yes, rooms 11006 and 12006 are both empty.” There was a faint sound of something akin to the hissing groan an old starship made when jumping into hyperdrive. “No, the occupant’s were not given leave. They aren’t stable.”

Damn. Fark him...Think of something quick R2!

3PO had frozen behind him, the others delicate fingers surprisingly strong as his hand increasingly tightened around R2’s own. The taller droid was fidgeting, his face contorting in a mess of rapid fire emotions. 

Well...when in doubt…

R2 gave 3PO’s hand a great tug, and began running forward. It was at this point that he was extremely grateful that this hospital used simple white pants and tunics rather than gowns as he sprinted for the glass doors. Much to his dismay there was a nurse at the front reception area, and 3PO let out a short alarmed yelp as R2 tugged a bit harder, pushing as fast as he could out the door as the woman’s hand came down on a button that set off a deafening alarm.

Laughter bubbled up in his chest as the hot air of a desert planet wrapped around him for the first time, savoring the feel of the warm sand against the soles of his feet as he dragged 3PO into a busy marketplace, quickly pushing the other droid down into the dirt. 3PO let out an indignant squawk, shooting R2 something of an incredulous look as he dove down into the dirt as well, using the minerals to colour the white fabric on his body before hastily scrambling to his feet and tugging the taller droid behind him once again. To his credit 3PO was surprisingly able to keep his mouth shut throughout the entire journey as R2 continued weaving them through stall after stall until sinking down to the ground by a ship bay. His back pressing against the scorching metal of a stall’s backside.There he allowed himself to let out a loud Whoop of victory before breaking into a hearty laugh.

3PO, despite looking down distastefully at his sullied white garments, did look over to R2 with a smile. “I never doubted you for a minute.”

As R2’s laughter died down he gave 3PO’s shoulder a shove, returning the smile. “Yeah right. That’s bantha fodder and you know it yah whiner.”

“Well, I never!”

R2 stuck out his tongue once again, rather enjoying this new way to tease his counterpart. 

“And, what now?”

R2 puffed out his cheeks and stared forward.

“Surely your plan goes further than this?”

“What plan? I’m winging it.”

“R2-D2!”

“Calm down! When have I steered you wrong?”

3PO stared him down. That stung. Perhaps it would have stung more if he hadn’t been able to come up with instances in which his actions could have been considered as steering 3PO wrong. It was usually in his best interest.

“Why I don’t just leave you to rust I’ll never know.”

R2 looked forward again, eyes trailing the weathered metal of a first generation Marauder-Class Corvette. “I do.”

“Hm?”

“Your life would never be the same without me.” He said in a matter of fact way. It was a confident answer. It was a truthful answer.

3PO huffed, long arms crossing over his chest. “You make it sound like you’re doing me a favor.”

R2 slowly rose to his feet, eyes traveling around the rest of the spacecraft landing deck. “Only as much a one as you’re doing for me.” He began walking resolutely towards a small shack on the opposite sides of the concrete field, a small light and his sensors alerting him to organic presence. “Come on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little note on height difference:  
> R2-D2: 157cm or 5' 2" (roughly)  
> C-3PO: 170cm or 5' 8" (roughly)  
> I hope you enjoyed chapter 4, and as always, feedback is appreciated.
> 
> ~Castor


	5. Our Past Can't Be Our Future Anymore

The small ship seemed to shake under the strain of their weight, the old engines barely enough to keep them moving through the cold expanse of space around them. R2’s head turned slowly, surveying the ships visible systems through a common monocular view. It really wasn't much, but it would do to get them to Coruscant. The pointless organic squabble of Han and Leia reverberated through the ship's cabins, and R2 wished he could reciprocate the look on Luke’s face at that moment. Binary cut through the argument, and the long-suffering twist of Luke’s flesh lifted into a smile.

“You’re right R2, we should have left them on that desert planet. They would have found a way out somehow.” The dirty-blonde’s hand came down fondly on the crest of R2’s dome as he slid down to the floor next to the droid. “Should have left this ship there too, I think we’d have been better off hitchhiking than doing this. We’d be less likely to die anyway.”

As R2 agreed, the metallic clicking of C-3PO’s feet made their way into the cabin. Luke twisted slightly to eye the golden droid, smile tilting to the side in a playful smirk. Sometimes R2 really loved this kid.

“Everything going alright up there 3PO?”

There was a short sound from the protocol droid, one that would have most likely been something akin to a huff if he had been able to make the sound. “Masters Han and Leia are having an argument over the functioning of the ship's main servers. I have tried to alert them to the rapidly declining capability of this vessel along with the odds of our imminent demise, however I don’t believe that I was well receipted.”

Luke hummed, and R2 let out a series of beeps which roughly translated to,  _ “I wonder why.” _

“I do as well R2.”

This made the blonde next to R2 let out a snort, his eyes falling to the welded metal floor as he no doubt pushed back laughter. 3PO payed no mind to his masters imminent laughing fit, rather tottering around until he was standing in front of the duo, hands hovering over the antiquated systems.

R2 spoke up, making Luke’s eyes shift up to the golden droid.

“I am doing the work which you are neglecting to do you insufferable tin can.”

The blonde human shook his head, moving his leg forward to tap his foot against the shining casing on the back of 3PO’s leg. “It’s no use 3PO. We’ve been messing with that thing for hours. If there was anything that we could have done, we’ve already done it.”

The droid’s head twisted back and forth for a moment, regarding Luke and then the systems as though searching for a better answer.

“We’ll just have to hold out until we get to Coruscant. Shouldn’t be that long now anyway.” The boy leaned tiredly against the astromech’s side, head making a hollow thunk as he let it fall into the curved metal.

They did arrive not all that much later, with little pomp and circumstance. In fact, it was when they were landing that the little ship began to sputter out, using up what life it had left just to get them to the ground. They were jostled roughly, and R2 was suddenly thankful that Luke was in the back cabin with the two droids, his arms automatically flying out to grab at the both of them as though they might fall out of the ship without his aid...

R2’s body swung forward with the rough motion, head thunking into a low pipe, the new and unpleasant sensation of pain breaking him out of his memory. It took the astromech a moment to remember when and where he was, though the situation became clear as a tall lanky body crashed into his back with the heavy swaying of the beat up ship as it approached the ground.

He twisted slightly, using one hand to grab onto the other droid as the other reached up to secure itself around the very pipe that he head been thrown into before. R2 searched his systems for a good way to block off the rambling in his ear as he was hit with an outstanding mixture of complaints and lecture from C-3PO. Boy, that was a familiar sound. He wondered if it would ever stop, not that he necessarily wanted it to, though in that moment the incessant speech in his ear was not the most appealing thing in the universe.

The rather scruffy individual who had agreed to take them back to base, a man who worked for the resistance as an off and on base as a mechanic, called out over the slightly concerning roar of the engines that they were quickly approaching the ground now. R2 supposed that they had been in the small ship long enough, his thoughts taking up the empty space of the travel time. For a moment he wondered if, perhaps, 3PO had been talking to him this whole time. Whoops.

Said droid was now struggling around in his grip, protesting against the hand holding him steady. R2 tried to tune him out- something he had quite a good bit of practice in -, simply holding onto him tighter in a show that he really didn’t care about how much the other protested, he was still going to act as 3PO’s grounding source.

“R2 I am perfectly capable of supporting myself, I do not need you holding onto me!” The blonde slapped weakly at his hand. 

If R2 knew how to sigh he would have, turning his eyes to the ceiling in exasperation, his mind sparked with a devious idea. As the ship began its descent, the turbulence increased. And with one rather violent shake, R2 released his grip on the protocol droid, barely containing his laughter as the other droid flew forward.

“R2-D2!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” R2’s head tilted to the side slightly, fighting to maintain an indifferent appearance. “What was that about not needing me to hold onto you?”

“You are absolutely incorrigible.”

The rest of the landing went by fairly smoothly, 3PO opting to stay on the ground, his hands secured around cool metal. They didn’t say a word as the small ship all but crash landed onto the one of the large fields just outside of the base. A few heads turned, but, he supposed that the sight was nothing terribly interesting. Just a small ship carrying a mechanic. That’s when it struck him.

Of course, they hadn’t thought of it before. It had felt like a given, mostly due to the fact that numerous times they had been separated from their masters only to somehow make their own way back. This time...this time was different. They were no longer immediately recognizable as the droids that they were. Without the signature look that everyone knew, then what was to verify that they were in fact the very R2-D2 and C-3PO that had been in the midst of the resistance since the very beginning?

R2 refrained from speaking any of this aloud in favour of keeping the rare kind of peace that had seemed to settle over the other droid. As odd coloured eyes spied out of a foggy glass window to see masters Finn, Poe and General Organa approaching, suspicion clouding their features, R2 began regretting his tendency to jump headfirst into things.

He was getting too old for this.

Tanned skin pulled back in a dramatic wince. Did he really just think that? Good Maker he was turning into 3PO...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where things are going to get a little bit tougher for these two droids.  
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> ~Castor


	6. We're In This Together

He had to pull his head close to his chest as he ducked out of the small ship, automatically lifting his hands up to his sides, palms out in the universal sign of surrender. Odd coloured eyes darted to the side as 3PO struggled to exit the ship, tanned lips twitching at the others predicament. 

Leia came to a stop in front of the two, and though R2 had witnessed her cool, poised, and radiantly powerful manor, it had never been thrown his way. 3PO stumbled a bit as his feet touched the ground, hands coming to rest on R2’s shoulders as he steadied himself. This gesture in itself was oddly reminiscent of how the other droid would frequently make the same motion before their transformation, at least one hand coming to rest on R2’d dome and lingering in a show of silent fondness. Either way, it was a reassuring feeling to both of them.

“General Organa!” 3PO’s tenor rang in his ears. If the sound surprised the woman at all she showed no sign of it, though R2 couldn’t say as much about Finn, who had visibly started at the sound.

“Leia.” R2 nodded his head as a courtesy, eyes locked on the rich brown colour that he had become incredibly familiar with.

At the sound of her first name R2’s trained eyes could make out a slight bristle in her professional composure. What must they seem like now? Two mad runaways probably. They were still dressed in hospital attire, the crisp white now wrinkled and faded brown by dirt. He would bet they looked an awful mess, nothing short of two hitchhikers coming to the wrong place at the wrong time.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’ve met before.” The general extended her hand in a cordial manner, but R2 disregarded the formality, passing the woman with a congenial clap on the shoulder.

That had caught Leia off guard. She was hardly ever treated in such a way. If she wasn’t respected, she was at the very least feared, though she would most prefer the former.

“R2!” 3PO chided, and the dark haired droid didn’t even have to turn around to know that the golden boy’s arms would be crossed.

“What?” He threw a casual glance over his shoulder. The small group, Leia, Poe, and Finn, all seemed equally thrown off, confusion seeping into their usually well controlled features.

“Really.” The protocol droid huffed, and R2 had been right, thin arms were crossed high up over his chest. “Don’t be so rude!”

He rolled his eyes as he spun back around on his heel, the movement oddly freeing compared to the slow twist of his former mechanics. Thicker arms with simulated lean muscle came up in a mock of 3PO’s own stance.

“Wait.” Poe’s voice broke the tension built by the intense connection between the two droids. Their eyes were locked as though in a staring contest, like they could somehow communicate without being linked together. 

Then a quieter voice to the side, dark lips parting slightly, “No way.”

Two pairs of eyes turned to burn brilliantly glowing holes into the pilot. Leia slowly surveyed the two as Finn’s face contorted into a clear show of guarded confusion, his stance strong as though ready for a fight if need be. Something seemed to clear in wise earthy eyes. 

At that moment a small round droid rolled quickly up to the group, fast enough that they hardly noticed it coming, a string of high pitched binary slicing through the air around them as the droid rammed straight into R2’s legs.

“Ah-Farking-!” R2 wobbled unsteadily, teeth sinking down into his lip as the simulation of pain coursed up from the backs of his legs all the way up his body.

“B! Buddy, you can’t just do that!” Poe’s face broke into a great big smile possibly against his will- R2 couldn’t blame the guy, if it hadn’t been him that the unit had run into he would be in a fit of laughter -, the faint edge of laughter ringing his words.

3PO was there in a moment, delicate hands moving up to cradle R2’s elbows in an attempt to steady him. The effort was unnecessary, and actually served to make him more unsteady. He batted away the others arms.

BB-8 ran into the backs of dirt ridden pants once again, beeping like an impatient child. R2 let out a strained hiss before a short laugh made it’s way through slightly parted lips. The short droid leaned over slightly, letting his hand rest on the BB unit’s small dome as it rambled on about all he’d missed in his absence.

Poe’s smile slowly dropped off, moving slowly until he was only a foot away from the three droids. BB-8 turned happily towards its master, dome twisting from side to side in apparent joy. However, the pilot seemed to not pay the round droid any mind as his hand reached out to grasp 3PO’s shoulder in a rather tight grip, making the stained cloth of the taller’s shirt wrinkle under the pressure.

“Master Dameron…”

He was looking right at R2. “BB-8 bumped right into you.” Brown eyes were open in unabashed wonder. “B’s usually more careful about that, the only one he would do that to was…”

3PO looked incredibly uncomfortable, slightly tilting down in Poe’s direction as the pilot’s hand seemed to tighten.

“Ah, Master Dameron...might I...you’re hurting me.”

“Oh!” Poe recoiled as though he had been burned, taking a surprised step back. 3PO’s voice had seemingly broken the man out of a trance, and the tops of his cheeks pinked in embarrassment. “Sorry...3PO?”

The blonde gave a reassuring nod, and R2 doubted that 3PO realized that the group in front of them couldn’t tell who they were. Well, save for BB-8, who had easily picked up their signals as soon as they set foot on the base.

“Mr. Dameron?” At some point the general had made her way over to where they were standing, Finn following at her heels at a more reluctant pace.

Poe turned, and R2 fought with every ounce of himself just to keep quiet. “General. I believe that these two are R2 and 3PO.”

“What?” Finn’s voice pitched up at the end.

Elegant golden eyebrows furrowed over confused eyes. “Yes, of course!”

So much for keeping quiet. R2 elbowed the other droid, earning himself a cuff over the side of the head. General Organa’s mouth twitched in response.

“Oh.”

“Up until a moment ago they didn’t really know who we are. Come on ‘PO, you didn’t even recognize yourself at first.” Big golden eyes blinked owlishly at him a few times, and he responded by rolling his own, sliding forward to loop one arm around the protocol droid’s thin waist. 3PO was a bit stiff, but R2 could feel a light weight on his side. An unnatural bright pink coloured the other droid’s face.

“Well I-”

A sweet twist of the lips graced Leia’s features before her composure broke, launching herself uncharacteristically towards the two droids, arms slinging around their necks. A tan arm stiffened to take the force of the blow, laughter pouring out of his mouth as the woman pulled them close. 3PO squawked as they tilted back, arm waving frantically for a moment before the general pulled away. Family, this was family.

Years had melted away from her face. “I thought you two were gone, destroyed in that wreck. Nothing was recovered.”

“I apologize Master Organa, I should have contacted you as soon as I had the chance.” 3PO trilled, still a bit shaken by the interpersonal interaction.

The brunette shook her head, the singular ring of hair on the back of her head bouncing gently with the motion, and she cleared her throat, regaining her composure. Her soft complexion glowed with relief for having not lost more of what she had considered her family.  “No, no. That’s quite alright...though, I would be interested to know what happened to you.” She said as she eyed their new figures.

Poe snorted. “Maybe after you change though.”

“How do we know you’re really them?” Finn piped up, eyes narrowed.

R2 nonchalantly lifted up his hand to point at the general -who had, at this point, taken back on an air of practiced superiority-. “She kissed her brother.”

Wide eyes turned to the general as 3PO cuffed him once again, this time getting retaliation in the form of a pinch to his side. Leia gave a short cough.

“That is not a matter for discussion boys. R2-D2, C-3PO, you two head inside, I’ll have someone bring you a change of clothes. When you’re ready come for a debriefing.”

BB-8 let out another short bout of cheery binary, and R2, whose translation was much more wholesome than any of the others, let out a rich laugh in response. The group looked on as confused as a tauntaun in the desert, but the two astromechs went on as though nothing at all had happened. The BB unit rolled faithfully by his side as R2 tugged 3PO along, the droid protesting right into his ear the whole way, twisting in his grasp as he looked back to the smiling, but still slightly dumbfounded, group behind them.

Then 3PO said something rather surprising. Or maybe it wasn’t that surprising due to his tight wound and often pessimistically inclined nature. 

“I do wonder how much they believe us now.”

“Hm?” R2 slowly processed the words, the odd colour on 3PO’s cheeks hadn’t lessened since he had reminded the protocol droid of their differing appearance, but it was now fading away, leaving the artificial flesh a pale white-yellow. Was 3PO’s new figure really betraying his emotions that much? “They will, if they don’t already.”

3PO let out a small huff, resigning himself to the arm around his waist in a comfortable fashion. At some point his hand had risen to cover R2’s own, though neither had noticed. 

“I wish I had your confidence.”

“Hey, well, what can they say that we don’t know? Besides, we’re still us, and no one can change that.”

“Yes well-”

“And even if they don’t, we’re in this together, you know. Despite your constant fatalistic droning,” The blonde let out a small noise, as though offended. “I haven’t left you yet, and I’m not planning on leaving you anytime soon. Plus, I know you’ll never leave me. Without me you’d really be a goner.”

“Excuse me! Why you little-” And here it goes again. A smile crept its way onto R2’s face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you see it? It's there.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!  
> ~Castor


	7. What? What.

“Damnit.” He twisted to the side, smooth synthetic flesh creasing with the turn, arms stuck in an awkward cross above his head. The dirty cloth of the hospital issue shirt had tented around his elbows and left him in a compromising position. “Farking...bantha- damn, shit-”

“R2-D2 watch your language! What is it you’re-”

Shit. Fark Farking shit. 

“That’s not how you take of a shirt you useless machine.”

R2 twisted to the side once again rather violently, arms pushing out against the cruel confines of the fabric prison. Maybe if he applied enough pressure the cloth would just rip. However, it never had to come to that as gentle, practiced hands, pulled him out of the shirt one arm at a time. By the time he could see again 3PO had already turned around, neatly folding the shirt before placing it atop his own.

“How the hell-”

“You forget that I’m a protocol droid. Despite the fact that I’ve been dragged into the most hectic existence that you prefer to live, the imperative embedded into my systems as a protocol droid ensures my ability to do such things as helping my master dress and undress.”

R2 would never forget that his partner was a protocol droid, he said it often enough. “‘Kay…” His head tilted to the side slightly. Their bodies looked shockingly different without clothes. Odd eyes traced the intricate shifting of faux muscular systems as 3PO moved his arms.

The protocol droid’s flesh layer was pale, a crisp cream in contrast to his slight tan, a light brush of colour. His eyes shifted downwards as he ran a hand on a slow trail down his front. He wasn’t nearly as small as 3PO, but he wasn’t large either. His skin felt rough, worn like this body had been through just as much as the one he had had before. When he looked back up a golden tunic settled in a light flush against his counterpart’s skin, a stark contrast to a familiar shade of crimson red that settled on his hips.

Out of pure curiosity, and sheer lack of respect for the other droids personal space, he reached out, letting his fingers curl softly into the bottom of the smooth shirt. He wondered what it felt like, the smooth glimmering cloth that seemed popular with some of the middle classes.

“R2-” The taller droid turned with the slight tug, golden eyes dropping to R2’s bare chested humanoid figure before letting out a soft sound of indigence. “Really, how would you do anything without me you-”

3PO’s voice dropped off to indiscernible mumbling as he easily pulled himself away from R2’s grip as though he’d done it hundreds of times before, which figuratively R2 supposed he had, and set to dressing him. At first the astromech stood stock still, shocked by the quick motions before hastily grabbing at the tan cloth in the others hands.

“I can dress myself!”

Vibrantly gold eyes turned up towards the ceiling in a silent show of frustration. These faces did nothing to conceal their emotions. Things that were once only conveyed by currents and automated voices were now visually voiced through their movements. That was going to take some getting used to.

“I was only trying to help, no need to be so ungrateful.”

“Not like it’s anything new.” He commented, smirking to himself at his own quick, and undeniably true, retort while pulling the thin crisscrossed fabric over his head. R2 winced as the shirt got caught over his arms the same way the hospital issued clothing had as he was trying to take it off. But 3PO was hardwired for this sort of thing, and within mere seconds the other droid had the tunic pulled over his head, crossing fabric straps adjusted to properly hang on his shoulders.

The corner of the taller’s mouth turned up slightly. “There.”

The tan fabric sat loosely over his torso, pooling up where it met with a pair of dark blue mechanics pants. How fitting.

A strange feeling spiked up from the bottom of his feet to the small of his back, making him suddenly straighten. Luckily his partner had already turned around, and R2 was left to curse the strange sensation with mild curiosity on his own without 3PO blowing whatever the heck it actually was out of proportion. 

“Are you ready then? We shouldn’t keep them waiting.” 3PO was already at the door. Those new legs really increased his speed and mobility, the protocol droid had never been fast, but now R2’s line of vision seemed to lag behind the other, expecting the tottering, jaunty walk that he had become adjusted to.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved the other droid off, making a show of walking smoothly to the door. However, this show slightly backfired as one of his knees gave out at the doorway, rough hands coming up to grip the edges of the open frame.

C-3PO blinked owlishly at him for a few moments, as though waiting for the astromech to say something.  _ Sorry to disappoint, I’m too busy trying to figure out what the fark is happening to this stupid synthetic body. _

In seconds Poe was striding confidently down the hall towards them, face fitted with a bright smile. “Hey, what timing!”

“Master Dameron! I apologize for our unexpected appearance earlier. I should have thought to at the very least have a messenger droid drop a signal of our existence.”

“Quit being a suck up 3PO.” R2 pushed easily away from the frame, the dysfunctional knee joints just a small and unexpected bump as he brushed past the taller droid, the gathered fabric of his tunic making a soft rustling noise as it pulled across the smooth gold fabric. His mouth was turned up in a smirk as he evened up to Poe’s side, moving his legs a bit faster to match the pilot’s pace. 

“Excuse me?” Light hurried footsteps began to follow behind them.

“Does it hurt bending that far over to kiss everyone's ass, or are you used to it by now?” Out of the corner of his eye R2 could see Poe bite down on his bottom lip, amusement giving way in soft snickers.

“Pardon me!”

R2 caught his new tongue between his teeth, smirk curving up into an amused smile, and then something happened. Good Maker, could he not just have a break?

That same tingling sensation from before shot up from his feet once again. A shock that started in his heels, and this time climbed all the way up to his head. His unit of consciousness continued to run smoothly, evenly, but his motivator seemed to be malfunctioning. That had never happened before.

New clunky feet, now covered in rich tan boots, were rooted to the floor, his body completely stilled as waves of unrestrained current flowed through his body.

“R2?” And that was Poe, standing in front of his face. A tanned hand waved in front of his eyes. 

He ran a signal out to 3PO, and his eyes just caught the strict stiffen of the other droid’s body before everything went dark.  Motivators could be fixed, sure. But damn, why the hell did it have to be him?

_ “We’ll be monitoring you for a bit, until we find that you’re stable enough to leave.” _

Well shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really R2-D2 has to deal with so much crap. They both do to be honest.  
> Are you seeing the romance. It's there, it's there.   
> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> ~Castor


	8. So, This is Our Life

_ “Some astromech droids don’t make it through the change well.” _

_ “We’ll be monitoring you for a bit, until we find that you’re stable enough to leave.” _

As it turns out, everything that R2 had been told while in the hospital hadn’t necessarily been directed at the both of them. In fact, 3PO’s transition was almost a natural one, where his was something that may have only been attempted once or twice before. Oddly enough, this had not been the first time that R2-D2 had served as a farking science experiment, but that didn’t mean that he liked it.

When his visual sensors sputtered on again he was so discombobulated that he had to be rebooted, words coming out in a slurred mess of indiscernible electronically scrambled data readings. It was not a pleasant feeling, lying conscious on a bed unable to see or move while being perfectly aware of everything that was going on around you. Most of that everything was comprised of the rising pitch of C-3PO’s voice as his worry and incessant paranoia increased with each moment that R2’s motivator refused to work properly.

At least Poe believed them now, there was no doubt of the familiarity of R2’s hard drive as unrelenting strands of binary passed over brightly coloured monitors. He had heard the pilot shuffling around, well, really he had sensed BB-8’s presence in the room, but that was enough for him to go off of relative to the man’s appearance. The BB unit had nearly told him off for doubting it’s abilities to sense, quote, “One of his favourite individuals.” The droid had sounded highly offended, leaving Poe to apologetically -though R2 had absolutely no doubt that the man had been smiling since the beginning of the conversation- trail the droid out of the room. 

This time he could feel his systems calibrating, a faint audible hum that set his body at ease as he finally regained control over his limbs. R2’s vision slowly blinked on, and he found himself blankly staring up into golden eyes, not more than a couple of inches away from his own.

“R2, you’ve come back! Thank the Maker!”

“The hell are you so close to me for?”

“Excuse me?”

R2 could feel the faint heat of overworking systems radiating off of 3PO’s body, golden eyes lit brightly against porcelain skin. If he moved just a bit, their noses would be touching.

“You’re real close to my face. What were you doing, trying to make sure that I was breathing or something? Still a droid you know.”

At that the protocol droid’s face took on the unnatural flush. It was interesting that now such a thing was a possibility as a display of emotion for them. Of course, the colour was a bit off, but R2 found that he quite likes the look of the vibrant bright pink blossoming over 3PO’s high cheeks. The other droid let out a noise of indigence, and R2 wondered if his counterpart’s skin would be warmer where the colour had appeared.

Golden eyes were locked on his own as R2’s fingers gently brushed against 3PO’s cheek. He pushed his thumb up and over the brightest pink, surprised to find that the synthetic skin was cooler in the coloured area rather than warmer like an organic’s skin would get. C-3PO’s eyes fluttered unintentionally as an instinctual reaction to the touch, and suddenly their noses were brushing.

It wasn’t strange or invasive, it felt almost natural. They were always in close proximity, in fact, it felt strange when they weren’t near each other. 3PO had even, begrudgingly, admitted that during the time he had entered his extended sleep, the other droid would still come in periodically to fuss at him and to see if there were any signs that might lead to his powering up.

R2 was familiar with the actions that organics took when their faces were this close together, Leia had once spoken of the feeling, the thoughts. He didn’t have to wonder at that in his own case. With just a little tilt he could brush their lips together. Would it be a strange sensation, or would it be as natural as 3PO’s hand resting on his dome?

“Hey 3PO, I-”

R2 had never seen C-3PO move faster in his life. “Master Finn!”

The astromech could have sworn that the surprise of Finn’s face had given way to a faint look of disappointment before 3PO’s eyes turned on him. The shorter droid propped himself up on his forearms as the dark skinned man let out a cough, heat rising to his cheeks. It looked better on 3PO.

“I was just going to say that I thought you should talk to the General on your own while she’s free, but I see I’ve made pretty good timing.” Finn seemed to have regained his composure rather quickly, though that blush seemed pretty stubborn.

_ I’ll say.  _ He was almost positive that the words dripping with sarcasm, though in his head, were loud enough for that sarcasm to seep into the room in a thin cloud around him.

“Oh my, yes! I seem to have forgotten. Do give the General my most sincere apologies. I will get R2-D2 ready, and we will be on our way momentarily master Finn.”

Pink lips tilted up in a genuine smile. “Alright, and you don’t have to say master before my name, you know. I told you to call me Finn.”

3PO’s head moved in a faint nod as the former stormtrooper turned, golden braid bouncing with the motion, end just long enough to brush his shoulder as it did so. Black boots fell heavily, making echoing footsteps through the hallway.

“Get me ready?”

The protocol droid jerked violently back in his direction, hastily straightening. The blush was gone, the other seemingly having regained his composure. “Yes, you’ve just woken up afterall. I doubt you’re very stable.”

_ Fark you, I’m always stable _ . And that was absolutely a lie that he was glad hadn’t passed through his lips as his knees buckled just as soon as his feet touched the floor. In a moment their faces were in close proximity once again, and maybe R2 needed to shut down more often. But there was something bitter about it this time as one of 3PO’s arms hooked under his shoulder to help hold him up. For a moment he could have sworn he had seen a shining flash of genuine plated gold, and a strange sensation struck him. R2 wanted to see that flash of gold, wanted desperately to be looking up more than he was. To not have to worry about having two legs. But this was his life now, his old body was was gone, the casing apparently beyond repair. He felt glad that he hadn’t seen it.

R2 scoffed at himself, head shaking in a slightly dizzying motion.

“What are you going on about R2?”

“What?”

There was a sound which mimicked a sigh from above him as their legs moved in awkward tandem. “Antiquated oil bucket. You were mumbling about something metal.”

“Aren’t I the one that’s supposed to be rude?”

“Aren’t you the one that’s supposed to be stable?” 3PO quipped back and R2’s mouth shut with enough force to make his teeth clack together.

There was a rapid tensing in the taller droid’s figure, making R2 hiss as his shoulder was pulled up further than it was meant to go with the straightening of 3PO’s spine.

“Hey, hey! I’m not as tall as you, remember you golden shab!”

“How dare you call me that!” The words came out a slightly higher pitch, but there was something behind them that made R2 want to bring them to a stop, to hold the other droid still so that he could look into his eyes. So that he could see the newly visible emotion shifting over his features. So that he could tell that the force of exactly what had happened to him had hit his counterpart just as hard, and as unexpectedly, as it had hit him. 3PO hadn’t meant to say those words, the things that he was thinking as he watched R2 shut down once again.

Had he thought R2 wouldn’t be waking back up this time?

“Mindless philosopher.” The words came out lower than he had meant them to, soft with a slight metallic twinge as though they were clouded by vocal systems similar to the ones that 3PO had before...whatever the farking hell this was.

“Overweight glob of grease…”

Could humanoid droids cry? Under his arm he could just feel 3PO shaking, and if he didn’t know better...but he did, and this was nothing but another trial that they would have to go through together. Assuming the universe didn’t start conspiring against the astromech and his companion once again.

_ Who am I kidding?  _ He thought, but did he really want it not to? 

_ What’s the fun in that?  _ His consciousness countered against it’s own sarcastic statement. There it was. For a moment he had been worried that the reboot had scrambled up the personality he had worked so long to build. Then who would be there to insult the protocol droid and tease him about his incessant paranoia? Speaking of, the other droid staggered a bit, as though there had been something beyond thought and emotion to trip him up.

He gently squeezed 3PO’s shoulder, hoping that it would covey something. He wasn’t sure exactly what, but it seemed to be received well. 

Damn, what was happening to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Evil Laughter*  
> Their relationship is great.  
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> ~Castor


	9. I Noticed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took as long as it did, hopefully the content will make up for the time it took.

This sucked. It sucked ass, and not just regular ass, like dirty Bantha ass. He had been to plenty of debriefings before, sure, but this one was probably going to take the cake on most awkward and intense meeting to have ever graced any form of resistance.

3PO hadn’t let go of him since one of his lithe arms had slipped under R2’s shoulder, they were huddled together in the kind of close proximity practiced when they were comprised completely of metal. Maybe it was protective, but that would be ridiculous. C-3PO, protecting him? 

The small meeting room was adjacent to the control room, and the ovular table seated Poe, Finn, and of course, General Organa. 

The pilots lips seemed to be permanently set in a smile, a contrast to the discomfort taking over Finn’s features. Perhaps that had something to do with the way that his face had contorted when he had walked in on the two droids in what could be considered a compromising position. To be honest, R2 really couldn’t see what the big deal was. Were organics really so bothered by contact? He thinks he would know after his time around them.

At one point, the shorter droid attempted to push 3PO away, which ended with a questioning look from golden eyes that definitely said he didn’t realize that he hadn't let go since initially helping R2 out of the room. Poe’s voice trilled on in the background, something about R2’s readings, and maybe he was reassuring the general that they were who she thought they were. 

Odd coloured eyes simply locked with gold until the protocol droid noticed that his arm was not beside his own body, jerking back in embarrassment. The astromech barely contained the short burst of laughter that threatened to leave his mouth. The look on his face earned him a cuff on the shoulder, which was received with a controlled smirk and a lopsided smile from the brunette woman across from them. It was good to know that as much as she had gone through, as hardened as she had become, underneath she was still the same. She was still able to smile.

However, that little episode was what turned all attention to them. Ah, damn.

“What’s the last thing you remember happening to you?”

R2 reclined back in his seat. “We’ve just changed physical form, not been memory wiped. So the last thing I  remember is three pairs of accusatory eyes turning my way as a smug ass pilot asked a dumbass question.”

“R2-D2!” 3PO squawked. “I apologize for him, he has a weak processor-”

“Hey!”

“We were on the ship carrying the extra fuel parcels back to the main base with master Almed.”

Poe’s expression soured a bit. “My Co-…”

The sweet tenor that was the protocol droid’s voice sans the electronic film that that resonated through each word prior to their change was attentive in recalling the story up to, “And then it all went black. I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t seem to recall any more than that before I woke up in a hospital.”

“A mixed one too.” R2 piped in. “Never seen one like that before.”

Leia sat up a bit straighter, which- frankly- R2 wasn’t sure was possible with her practiced and rigid posture. “What do you mean, mixed?”

He rolled his wrist a few times, hand moving in a circle through the air. It was a motion he’d seen Luke do countless times when trying to explain something. Damn he missed the kid...man-child...thing.

“Mixed. Both droids and organics as far as I could tell.” His ocular vision shifted up to the ceiling. “They were kind of strange, I guess. They treated me more like an organic fascination than a droid. Said I was really the first astromech to “make it through the change”, or something like that.” R2 let his eyes drift back down. The range of frontal ocular vision that he now had was a bit jarring, but endlessly interesting. “Something about needing to make sure that we were stable, but after my motivator failed this morning I’m thinking that was more likely aimed at me than goldenrod here.”

A short finger probed the taller droids side, making him squirm a bit.

“To be honest, I don’t really think they were planning on letting us go.”

Golden eyes blinked owlishly. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Don’t you think sirens are a bit out of the ordinary for a hospital?” His eyes cut over to meet rich brown. Leia was staring back intently, as though she could read his mind before the words spilled from his lips. Realistically, he knew that this wasn’t the case. Even if Leia had the force power that allowed her to do such a thing as probing thoughts, it would be next to useless for her to try and process the consciousness of a machine.

The brunette’s words weren’t soft or comforting like they would have been years ago, they were as hard and forthright as her gaze. “It sounds like more of a lab. Experimentation is my guess.” A pause. “You said they were fascinated with you?”

A bitter laugh choked him, and 3PO seemed to startle at the sound. The taller droid was sitting ramrod straight in his stiff chair, though it was obvious that the situation was making him uncomfortable. Without thinking, R2’s hand found it’s way to just above the blonde’s knee. For some reason, the slight pressure that he applied seemed to calm both of them.

Calm him? He wasn’t uncomfortable or uneasy, was he?

His head bobbed, which was still an utterly strange and confusing situation. He decided then that he would rather give a vocal conformation. Organic’s were strange to find such an odd movement so efficient. 

“They seemed happy to have me there at the very least. Maybe they were just happy to see the success of my change into a humanoid unit?”

As the words echoed through his head, turning around with each moment, the levity of the situation weighed on him as though he had been stomped into the ground. The weight of a hundred starships pressing down on his shoulders. Before he hadn’t thought about it too much, hadn’t really cared to be completely honest. But now, being back with the people he considered to be his mobile home, everything seemed off. None of this was right. It didn’t fit. He didn’t fit.

“You said that this was on a desert planet.”

“Yes Master Organa.” The corner of the woman’s thinned out lips twitched up at the sound of 3PO’s voice. The droid had been eerily silent as they talked about the hospital. 

What the hell was wrong with them?

Poe leaned over, the chair beneath him groaning in protest as his lips pressed close to the general’s ear. She nodded once.

“That’s enough for now you two. Why don’t you try to relax some?”

That was an undeniably strange thing for her to say. Was everyone here going farking insane, or was it just him? Leia knew better than anyone else that there was not such a thing as a droid being able to relax. They were not programmed with the need nor the objective. Was their appearance really so impactful that even the woman who had been with them for years could have her mind altered by the trick of her eyes?

He was prepared to protest, a snarky and biting comment on the tip of his tongue when lithe fingers closed around his forearm, pulling him up to a standing position. There was a thin smile on the protocol droid’s face. He looked funny.

“Yes master Organa, thank you. Do not hesitate to call on us if we are needed.” The blonde’s head inclined forward a bit, the golden plait falling past his shoulder and neck to hang next to his cheek for a moment. The golden strands shimmered even in the dull light, as though his head had been encircled by a glowing halo.

R2 allowed himself to be pulled out of the room, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder before the mechanical door slid closed.

“Later bitches.”

“R2-D2!”

 

…

 

They had been sitting there for hours. Okay, maybe just 30 or so minutes, but it damn well felt like several hours. Nither of them had said a word since leaving the debrief. R2 let his head fall back against the wall with a rather loud, and slightly painful, thump. 3PO bristled a bit at the noise, but barely even looked up from the old holo that sat on his lap. The edges of the small instrument were a bit chipped, a worn layer of what looked like paint had begun to peel away on the top. None-the-less, golden eyes ran tirelessly over each section of writing. It was in some weird language that the astromech couldn’t even begin to decipher, not that he really cared to.

However, he was bored. Usually he would go around the base. Find something to occupy himself with. He often settled into an offhanded project, but he didn’t even know where to begin with this new body. Obviously he would figure something out, but for some odd reason he couldn’t convince himself to leave the room.

Two eyes, one red and the other blue, were intently focused on the droid pressed against the wall on the other side of the room. C-3PO looked like he belonged. Not just in his new body, but among the organics. Dressed from head to toe in nice clothing as he sat with his back to a blandly colored wall. Decades of untranslated what-the-fark-ever scrolling past his eyes, ankles crossed in a delicate and elegant stance. No one would ever guess that his skin was synthetic.

Suddenly R2 got the strangest feeling. He wanted to be that holo. To be close to 3PO. Maybe not on his lap, though the thought wasn’t unwelcome. In fact, he would have to try that some time, just to see how the protocol droid would react to someone trying to sit on his lap. The astromech cracked a smile at that. That kind of action would be enough to fill his amusement for weeks.

But, aside from that...The shorter droid slowly got to his feet, his movements so minuscule and intentional that he doubted the other even sensed how close he was as he shuffled to hover over the golden halo that seemed to catch any and all light available. 3PO absolutely glowed.

The base was encased, fortified by thick walls. The room they were in was void of any opening to the world outside and yet the protocol droid seemed to light the room. The porcelain skin before him offset every other color, the gold fluid and shimmering, and holy farking hell...well shit.

What the hell was he thinking? Was he out of his damn mind? It must have been the faulty motivator that was messing with his conscious unit, making that load of blether play around in his head. Was that so bad though?

R2 jerked back, hands going up to encase either side of his head, which he was now shaking violently. 

“ARGH!”

3PO jumped in his seat, blinking rapidly as golden brows furrowed in concern. “R2, are you alright?”

“Farking damn shit damn-”

The lithe blonde jumped to his feet then, scrambling to the door so that he could contain the thick stream of obscenity flowing from his counterpart’s mouth.

“R2-D2! What’s gotten into you? Of course, I know you’ve never been the most courteous, but really!”

“Bantha ass damn-”

“Are you listening to me you troublesome little bucket? Control yourself R2!”

3PO was reaching toward him, perhaps to place a hand on his head or shoulders. Anything to calm the steady flow of shit storm passing over his lips. The astromech staggered back. 

“F-Fark you!” With that he bolted, stumbling a bit without the false adrenaline of a fight to distract him from the strange new sensation of running.

The sound of his feet hitting the ground grew softer as he burst out of the base. To be honest he didn’t really have a clue what he was doing, or where he was going, but that hardly slowed him down. His mind was racing but empty at the same time, and he found himself wondering if that was even possible before deciding that he didn’t care. He was probably a bit over a mile away when he finally slowed, and without anything to keep him going he sank to the ground, staring at the dirt beneath him.

What even happened?

Did he-

Was he-

Wait...did he just run from 3PO? Oh, come on!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sits back in chair*  
> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> ~Castor


	10. This Life

R2 decided then that he thoroughly disliked humans. He picked up way too much from them, including the mannerisms that ended him up in such a stupid-ass situation as this. R2, in his original mechanics, wouldn’t have run, maybe in a worst case scenario he would have gone into standby- a sleep mode. For his actions he decided to blame Luke, who had a bad habit of running away to avoid facing something he didn’t want to face.

There was a warmth radiating from the ground, the heat absorbed and contained in the small crystals was bouncing back at him and he could feel that heat more acutely now than ever. Odd coloured eyes closed tightly as a gust of wind blew the dirt up in furious little clouds, allowing them to open again as everything settled. What he had done was stupid. He could almost feel the immense moronic base of his actions, a small regret teasing his code. He hated humans, and he was now embedded with a program to be like one it seemed.

Perhaps hate was a strong word, as he didn’t necessarily actually dislike the organic beings themselves, but rather their confusing mess of emotions and peculiar customs and mannerisms that he now found himself partaking in.

R2 flopped back, limbs spread wide against the dry ground. He stared at the sky, willing it’s dancing colours to tell him answers. What was it he was feeling, usually he was easier to read.

With a groan tanned hands came up to cover his eyes. There was something there, pulling at him incessantly. Like a nagging bug, or a virus, though that was unlikely as he’s just had a thorough check thanks to his little motivator malfunction.

Then there was something else. A concern, one that he quickly realized wasn’t his own. 3PO was giving off a high-wired signal. The shrill sound alarming in itself, and R2 could almost hear that whiny tenor trilling through the halls as he searched for the astromech.

Something was stinging, but he didn’t know if it was in his systems of 3PO’s.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he ran. 

No, that wasn’t true. He was overwhelmed, confused. All of those thoughts, every little one that he had felt like it was crossing a line that he was unwelcome to cross. That was something he had never once experienced with the protocol droid before. 

Thinking about it made his circuitry buzz, heating his systems uncomfortably. He never stopped thinking about C-3PO. There was always something in his conscious unit, as though a space had been permanently reserved, for something about 3PO. How he looked. How annoying he was. How high-strung. How his voice sounded. Where he was. What he had been doing. How he reacted. There was never a lull, always something to think. 

He smacked at his head, the heel of his palm whacking solidly against his forehead. What was the point of thinking about that, realizing it now?

The high frequency waves sent out by 3PO hit him once again, and he sat up, shaking the dirt out of his hair.

Their emotions were synthetic, differing in leaps and bounds from those possessed by organic beings. That’s what he repeated steadily to himself as he began a shame filled trudge back to the central base building. As soon as the mechanised doors slid open R2 was assaulted, a strong bash at his shoulder was closely followed by a tirade by the object of his discomfort.

“Where in the world did you go!? And what was that? How dare you talk to me in such a way! Has your motivator begun malfunctioning again? Really, I don’t know why they haven’t deactivated you by now, surely you’re more trouble than you are a help!” There was a short noise that assimilated something of a huff. That unnatural pink was rising on the tops of 3PO’s cheeks, lighting up his eyes which were already tinged with concern despite his supposedly harsh words.

The taller droid’s mouth opened once again, no doubt ready to open the floodgates to another wave of meaningless insults and complaints. R2’s eyes rolled up to the ceiling. Some things never change, no matter how they may look on the outside, their cores remained the same.

One large, and work worn hand laid on 3PO’s back as R2 turned up a broad grin.

“Aw, you were worried about me. I’m touched.”

The protocol droid sputtered a bit. The noise and action itself should have been below him, but there was yet another spoil of prolonged exposure to angst ridden, awkward organics. R2 didn’t necessarily know that this was the cause, but he was sure as hell going to blame them for it regardless- but this in no way reflected how he felt about the way that 3PO stuttered, paused, the unusual shade of pink rising to his cheeks.

The astromech’s tongue poked out of the side of his mouth in a teasing manner as he applied a gentle pressure where his hand rested at the small of 3PO’s back. As the strand of fast paced words spilled over the taller droid’s lips there was little resistance to be had against R2’s movement. As they rounded the corner Poe and Finn came into view, the pilot's hand coming up in a friendly wave, mouth twitching as 3PO’s complaints bounced off of the walls. He continued to push the other droid along, giving the brunette a short salute and noticing what seemed to be a small exchange of credits between the two as the droids walked past.

It clicked, and as the rounded the next corner R2’s mouth had twitched up into something of a devious grin. Finn hadn’t been disturbed by their proximity, he had lost a bet. The astromech would have to remember to give Poe a high-five when he saw him next, the clever bastard. 

He shook his head, but what bet? About them certainly, but what about them exactly? That he would have to ask about.

“Are you even listening to me you inconsiderate, rude-”

He barked out a laugh as his attention turned back to the other droid, his hand shifting from its place at the small of his back with R2’s movement. 3PO twisted sharply to the side, face contorted in something akin to distaste.

“Ah, can it. What d’you even have to complain about right now?”

“Excuse me! I hardly ever complain you rude little-”

“So what was it you were talking about then?”

3PO blinked a few times, as though the question was unreasonable or unclear.

He rolled his eyes, his arm slipping further around the protocol droid of its own accord, hand gently clasping around a slim side. Despite the closer proximity, neither of them really noticed that they were nearly pressed together at the side.

“You.” 

He hummed.

“What is it that is wrong with you? Is your motivator malfunctioning again?”

The words should have seemed rude, mean almost, but they were tinged with such concern and were of course coming from 3PO, and therefore their meaning was changed. R2 looked up, trusting that 3PO would continue to lead them through the halls and to the room that they had been assigned.

The astromech shook his head. “I don’t know.”

He could feel the droid bristle at that. If anything, R2 hardly ever admitted that he didn’t know something. He would often work to differ, doge, or even go as far as to make something up to avoid saying that he didn’t know something- unless it was a situation with a levity which called for urgent and complete truth.

3PO pulled him to a stop just outside the sliding doors of their room. Thin hands skirted around his face and shoulders as though looking for something. R2’s face twisted into an expression that mirrored his feeling of being weirded out. As golden eyes met with odd coloured ones, that little blush bloomed back over 3PO’s face.

“You feel as though you may be overheated.” The taller stated. Concise words that fell from his mouth like a stream of water, made sweeter by the slight accent he possessed. “Perhaps you should have a cool down.” The blonde stood awkwardly, bent over just a bit to look at R2.

He rolled his eyes, and lifted up a hand to pat against 3PO’s pink cheek. They felt unusually cool, soft, and the pale colour was a stark contrast to the pigmentation of his own synthetic skin.

“I’m fine, but if it’ll make you feel better…” He shrugged and dropped his hand down to grab the taller droids. “But on the condition that you have to rest with me.”

“I don’t need the rest R2, in fact I should probably see if I am needed-”

“By General Organa who specifically ordered that we rest?”

The accented words stuttered to a stop.

“Fine.”

A genuine smile stretched over his lips. “Good.” 

“Someday you’ll get us both killed…” 3PO’s voice trailed off, low grumbling filling up the space between them as the doors slid back to close off the room.

At least this would give his whirring mechanics time to settle...Damn life, being so damn unpredictable. It needed to farking stop, he thought...though he didn’t really mean it. Why? He didn’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They don't even notice...not at all.   
> Poe does.  
> I hope you enjoyed!  
> ~Castor


	11. Sleep for us?

Cooling down in this strange new form proved to be more difficult than it really should have been. R2 found that he could have a minor internal cool down while standing or sitting, but the humanoid body was not built in the same way as his former shell has been. The longer that he set his systems to cool, the more his visual sensors seemed to dim until he got to the point where his body had slumped forward, tumbling to the floor, which had him startling back to his feet.

Disoriented and more than a bit frustrated, R2’s eyes squeezed closed as his counterparts visual sensors went from a dull gold to blaring light.

“Ugh, turn those off would you?”

He could practically hear 3PO’s confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Your eyes are like farking searchlights, damn.”

As he blinked his eyes back open he was met with the disapproving stare of the protocol droid, at least they were able to be their normal selves no matter the situation. The blonde was propped up on a long chair...thingy. It looked sponge-y, soft, and was long enough for even the unnervingly tall droid to stretch out his legs.

“I can’t get a decent cool down in this damn body.”

3PO blinked a few times. “Really? I find it quite easy.”

“Yeah well, you’re used to being freakishly tall and thin with these,” He swung around his arms in unnecessarily ridiculous gestures. “Hanging around.”

“Perhaps you should try supporting yourself?”

R2’s arms dropped heavily to his sides. “How the hell do you suppose I would do that?”

3PO’s eyes drifted to the ceiling for a moment, as though considering something, before he scooted over as far to one side of the chair as he could. Lithe fingers tapped the now empty space beside him, and R2’s eyebrows disappeared beneath the fringe of of his silvery tinged dark hair.

“I’ve found that the task of cooling or recharging comes easier without the unnecessary use of small mechanics to keep one's body upright. I believe that your humanoid form begins to shut down completely the cooler your systems get, releasing your joints, and shutting off the small mechanics needed to keep you standing.”

Sometimes R2 forgot that the protocol droid could actually direct some of his programming to other droids, leaving him a bit uncomfortable at the thought that 3PO was treating him almost as though he were, in fact, some sort of organic master.

“Perhaps cooling down and recharging in this state is somewhat equal to the idea of an organic’s sleep cycle.”

R2 twisted his hand about in the air, quickly sliding into the empty spot to the other droid’s side. 

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t know, don’t care.” His eyes dropped down to the pale hand that had awkwardly settled between them, and despite the fact that their shells were so close, he felt as though 3PO’s treatment of him just then had opened a wide gap, one that left him feeling uncomfortably empty. Well, damn, that was no good.

He lifted up a heavy hand, turning slightly, and dropped it on the top of 3PO’s head, musing his hair.

“Thanks.”

_ That damn farking bleeding augh, damn the stupid blushing thing, what the hell? WHY DO I EVEN CARE!? _

__ The protocol droid feigned indifference, but it didn’t take a force user to tell that the action was laced with fondness. Maybe that’s what happened after more than 30 turns together.

“Yes, yes. After all, such a thing is in my programming.”

For some reason having 3PO say this out loud rattled him. Of course the protocol droid often reminded him of such a thing, but more often than not it was used as a beratement, or his actions were geared towards others and hardly ever towards him.

He rubbed his hand through the other’s hair a bit harder. “Don’t treat me like a stranger.”

“Excuse me?”

Lifting odd coloured eyes to the ceiling, R2 leaned towards the other droid until he had no choice but to look directly into the others eyes. 

“I’m not organic, I’m not human, I’m not your master, I’m not your friend.”

“What are you talking about you-”

“I’m your counterpart.” 

“Uncouth little-”

“And I’ll always be that way, no matter what happens to us. Don’t forget that.”

And somehow they were precisely-

“You have moved 50.558763% closer to me, was that intended, or would you find the ability to control yourself in such a way that you may separate yourself further from my face?”

R2’s nose pinched a bit.

“Are you deaf?” One fisted hand came to knock against the side of 3PO’s head, enough to make it move with each hit and make a short thunk.

The golden eyed droid caught R2’s wrist, frowning.

“Excuse me?”

_ I don’t know damnit. I’m trying to say something here but I don’t even know what. You’re supposed to be good at this, reading people. I know I’m not your primary directive, but please stop being as dense as a wampa hide _ .

He shook his head. “Nothing, forget it goldenrod.”

“R2-D2.” 3PO quipped, voice strong and concise. 

That was oddly commanding.

“Yes?”

“You silly little bucket.” A hand came to rest on the top of his head in a very familiar gesture, and the corner of 3PO’s mouth turned up at the corners. “Of course I know that. How often have I declared such a thing myself? Though, I wouldn’t say you are my equal, you are without doubt my counterpart and that shall never change.”

R2 broke into a lopsided smile. There they sat, one hand on each other’s head, sitting in an awkward position to look at one another, and smiling like fools. This was much better.

“Good.” He applied pressure with his hand, rubbing his palm in a twisting motion against blond hair until the frizz of static had it puffed up and mused. “Now, how about that cool down. I hope you’re damn well right about this “sleep” thing, because I don’t think my systems are going to last much longer without a recharge after my farking motivator decided to sputter out.”

3PO nodded a bit of twisted indigence on his face due to his now messy hair as they both settled back into the chair, side by side and pressed in close proximity as the chair was more fit for either a very large person, or one and a half persons. 

“I believe that I am correct, as a scan of my internal systems have proven to have changed only minimally besides upgrades and a few additions.”

He nodded languidly, allowing his systems to slowly ease off to a reserve power. Before his sensors dulled completely he felt a weight shift onto him, a heavy head tilting onto his own.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's there. It's there.   
> R2 sees it, but he doesn't know what it is...
> 
> ~Castor


	12. Sorry About That

R2-D2 very nearly fell out of the chair when his visual sensors popped back to life, a startling rush running through his system. He let out a low cough, the beginnings of a smile teasing the edges of his lips. Now that was familiar, it seemed that no matter what sort of body type he inhabited they would always make the subtle protests that were common to his generation of astromech. Perhaps some would take this a sign of age, being outdated, falling behind. To him it was more of a comfort than anything else, one of the few things that he was actually glad to have remain stagnant in his life. 

He began to shift a bit, letting the rapidly warming systems pull himself up to par when he realized that his body seemed to be bogged down by a heavy weight. At first he thought that perhaps it was a sort of aftermath of his discombobulated motivator, but he soon found out that it was a bit more...farking hilarious, than that.

The weight of his body from mechanical resistance, he would surely say, had been added to by the fact that at some point 3PO had shifted heavily to the side. R2’s side. Actually, he hadn’t just shifted. 

R2’s mouth twitched uncontrollably, and he could have sworn that sparks were igniting his inner systems as he fought off laughter. 

The prissy droid had ended up in a position hardly becoming of him, and it was great. 3PO was nearly on top of the smaller droid. Shimmering gold was pressed against R2’s chest, a delicate hand perched just next to his face. His body had turned sideways, curling very slightly around the slightly tanner humanoid form. 

He slowly lifted a hand, and wow this body recovered quickly. His fingers gently carded through the blond hair messily splayed out on his chest, the neat plait of 3PO’s hair had come half undone, and the past shoulder length hair was beginning to spill down the back of his neck.

“Hey, Princess.”

There was a faint hum as 3PO’s systems re-calibrated, there was a faint movement to his humanoid form even before he had fully came to consciousness as though his body had been unable to completely “relax” into their programmed sleep like state.

R2 was fully aware that at this point his bright white teeth were bared completely in a large grin turned down at his counterpart.

“Able to recharge a bit?”

3PO mumbled something into the smaller droids chest, sending involuntary shivers up his spine. The golden boy then had the nerve to look up at R2 expectantly, as though waiting for a response to the gibberish that had just come out of his mouth.

“Okay, I know I’ve been around you for nearly all of your life, but I don’t understand half the bantha fodder that you do. So, you’re gonna have to repeat that for me sweetheart.”

The droid on his chest let out an indignant noise, then stared down at R2’s chest, eyes slowly taking on an air of surprise, and that was the last straw. R2 had no way of controlling the bubbly laughter that burst past his lips, richly filling the room. 3PO nearly jumped to the furthest wall.

“Oh my, R2-D2! Why did you not wake me? How unbecoming!” The protocol droid’s hands came up to brush back his messy hair, fingers pulling out the small gold band half hanging from the tip of the deformed plait. There was a light brush of pink against the tops of his cheeks, though he held himself rigidly, most likely displeased by the improper show of ending up on his counterparts chest whilst cooling and recharging.

The mechanical door slid open to a concerned looking Finn.

“Are you two alright? I heard yelling.” 

Poe’s BB-unit rolled up to Finn’s feet, nearly knocking the man over as he buzzed into the room, coming to a staggering halt a the hysterically laughing astromech’s side. The sharp and almost child-like beeps of an astro filled the space in between R2’s laughter, and the darker haired droid was nodding.

“Yeah bud.” One large hand fell atop the orange and white dome that just came up to the arm of the chair.

“I apologise master Finn, for him, and for the yelling as well.”

Dark brown eyes shifted over to R2 in a knowing manner, as though the situation’s blame fell completely to him. Did that say anything about the droid’s personality? Well, it certainly said that he had a personality, and really, he couldn’t care less about what others thought of him. He turned his gleaming smile on the former stormtrooper, garnering a fond eye roll in return. Finn seemed to have gotten over his discomfort. He would fix that.

“Is there anything we’re needed for master Finn, or were you only passing by?”

“Oh, right. General Organa would like to see you to again, she tried to reach you via holo, but said that she couldn’t get a connection.”

“Oh my,” 3PO’s eyes flicked over to the holopad fastened to the wall, just next to the mechanical door, now neatly stowed away in its pocket. The screen was very dim, as though the pad had only just turned on. “We must have taken up all of the power in the room, my apologies.”

Finn waved him off kindly, a small smile turning up the corner of his lips. “It’s fine, just come around as soon as you can. They’re reviewing some maps now, so you don’t really need to be in a hurry.” The man turned to the side, one hand dropping down to reach out towards the BB unit beneath R2’s hand. The small astromech seemed hesitant, so he gave the droid a nudge from the back, rocking up from the chair to his feet and sauntering over to 3PO himself.

Before the man had fully turned, R2 took his opportunity. He reached up, fingers combing out the rest of the plait now just hanging loosely from the base of the blonde’s head. 3PO seemed more anxious, distracted by the fact that they had been unavailable to the general to really care what R2 was doing. Besides, if anything, they had proved that proximity had never been a problem for them.

Tendrils of golden hair slipped between his fingers, gently catching the light from above and seeming to move unbidden across his skin, dripping like golden rain back to fall on the protocol droid’s shoulder.

“And Finn.” The dark skinned man turned, eyes lighting enough to show the small surprise that came with the scene before him. R2 leaned in provocatively, slipping an arm around 3PO’s waist and pulling him close, earning little resistance in the form of a small sound of indigence.

“R2.” The other droid huffed, and it almost looked like there was the beginning of something pink rising on his face.

He pushed up on his toes, gently brushing his nose against 3PO’s neck and turning a smirk half into the other droid’s skin, and half to the man standing at the door looking immensely uncomfortable.

“Sorry about your bet.”

After the door slid shut, Finn’s feet moving too fast to look professional, pink having darkened the shade of his cheeks, R2 tumbled back at 3PO’s forceful little push at his chest, laughter filling the room once again.

“Did you see his face!? Great maker that was the best thing-”

3PO looked mad, okay, maybe not mad but at least mildly disturbed. And yes, his cheeks were blazing pink, probably cooler in temperature than R2 had ever felt them before. He briefly wondered if this would be true, garnering the strong impulse to reach out and run his fingertips over the synthetic skin.

“What in maker’s name are you doing!”

His hands came up to either side of his chest, the universal sign of surrender.  _ What the hell’s up with him? _

“Hey, calm down okay?”

“I cannot believe this!”

_ Is he really that mad about what just happened? No, that would be ridiculous...then again, it was 3PO. _ R2 looked the other droid up and down for a moment, just about to open his mouth when-

“We utilized so much of the power in this room that we effectively blocked any form of communication, including that from General Organa! How could we have been so clueless? So-so ignorant? So-”

If R2 could have sighed, he would have. A small smile turned up on his lips again.  _ Just like 3PO.  _ He took a few steps forward, back towards the other droid, letting his hands settle calmingly on the others shoulders.

“Calm down, calm down. Finn said that it’s not that big of a deal right? He would know, wouldn’t he? He’s like, Poe’s secondary droid, but organic. So, he’d know what Poe knows, and Poe generally knows about the General, yeah?”

The blonde slowly nodded.

“So, it’s fine. We’ll get ready if we need to, and head over then, okay?” Some of the colour had drained from 3PO’s face, he seemed much calmer now. “I’m ready to go now, but I bet you want your hair put back up?”

“Oh!” Lithe porcelain fingers came up to worry at the ends of the golden hair, the taller droids face mixing in a show of embarrassment and discomfort.

“Come here.” He slipped a hand up the narrow shoulder, gently grabbing a hold of one worrying hand and pulling the golden droid over to the chair. “Sit, I’ll try and do it for you.”

_ How hard could a plait be anyway? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I really wanted to say thank you to all of the wonderful people reading this story. I'm overwhelmed by the amount of positive feedback that I've been getting, and since there's really no good way to go about thanking every single person commenting individually- as much as I would like to, and may possibly try to do anyway - I really wanted to take this time to say thank you, so much. Thank you for your kind words, for your input, and your support. Every time I read a comment, get a kudos, it's great. You are all so kind, and amazing, and I'm so glad that my story could bring some happiness into your day.  
> So, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and you may all now go back to your regularly scheduled programming.  
> ~Castor


	13. I don't, I can't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are happening....  
> Sorry for the late update, lots going on.  
> All of those quotes in italics are directly from C-3PO, and can be found http://www.imdb.com/character/ch0000048/quotes 

“Farking-!” R2 growled, feet hitting the ground in unnecessarily loud thumps. “How the hell do you do that?”

3PO’s hands diligently wove the hair between his fingers, the appendages easily slipping in and out, tightening the plait to pristine form as the walked towards the meeting room.

“It’s a practiced motion, inlayed in my function. A preparation in the case that I may have a master that needs such a service from me.”

“‘Kay, but, I can manipulate a complex multi-binary, quadra-facet, septi-holo board of mechanisms, but I can’t manage to do a plait.”

The taller shook his head, fingers pinching the base of the plait tightly as he began wrapping the band around the base to secure the style.

“It’s a different skill R2. Is it so hard to believe that there are some things that you cannot do?”

R2 snickered, purposefully veering off of his straight path to bump into 3PO’s side.

“Whatever.”

“Anyhow, what was that “bet” business earlier?”

The astromech hummed, a slight smile turning up his lips at the image of Finn cantering away, tail tucked between his legs as a small astromech followed obliviously on his heels. His shoulders lifted up.

“I saw Poe and Finn exchange some credits, took a wild guess on what it was about. I was right.”

“What was-”

“You don’t want to know.” He snickered, allowing himself to gently bump into 3PO once again, enjoying how the other droid staggered as though in his old body. Uncoordinated and with limited movement, he would teeter before remembering that he had significantly more mobility than before.

“Whatever it was, I would kindly request that you leave me out of it. Was it really so necessary to cling to me as you did?”

“You minded it?” His eyes shot to the side, peeking over at the other droid.

“I-Well, master Finn seemed bothered by it…”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m fully aware of what you asked, thank you.”

R2 dropped it. It wasn’t worth the convoluted 3PO logic he would get in response to further argument. Anyway, the large mechanical door to the meeting room sat less than a yard ahead of them, and a short trill went through his systems as he picked up on the pitch of a familiar voice...more than one actually.

It was hardly a second after the door opened that he was enveloped in a warm hug. “They told me. I guess we have to deal with all of your sass in basic now.”

He smirked into the girl’s shoulder, lips pressing into the rough jedi robes.

“It’s nice to see you again master Rey.”

The girl pulled back, a smile twitching up the corner of her lips. “You as well 3PO.” Was that a hint of insincerity he detected there? “You both…” She hummed softly. “It’s very different.”

R2 sauntered over to the large table at the centre of the room, casually plopping down into one of the chairs and lifting up his legs to prop his feet on the table. “Yeah, well. How do you think we feel?”

“R2-D2!” In a quick movement, which he would admit felt terribly strange, C-3PO had begun pushing at his feet, which remained stubbornly on the table. “Don’t be so rude and unsanitary!”

Leia swept into the room, her presence a wave of power. “You two will never change.” She let out a soft sigh. “R2, please?”

He removed his feet almost immediately, tugging purposely downward on one of 3PO’s hands. The room was filled with quiet snickers as the droid teetered on his toes, overcompensating for the tip forward by leaning backwards until losing balance on that side as falling less than gracefully into the chair to the side of R2.

“Oof!”

“Alright, if everyone’s quite done messing around, then I’d like to talk very seriously about this institution that you two were in.”

Despite the fact that the general had been addressing all of them, her eyes never once left the two droids.

3PO turned slightly in his seat, as though the mention of the hospital somehow made him uncomfortable. “General?”

Leia didn’t say anything, simply gliding over to a seat and lowering herself until she was sitting adjacent to the droids, everyone slowly followed suit, a serious silence falling over the group.

“Ah, don't be so bum guys. If it was really that bad we wouldn't have gotten away. Especially not this thing.” He jabbed a thumb in 3PO’s direction. There were a few poorly hidden smiles at that, but it didn’t ease the thick tension snaking it’s way through the spaces in between each of them, wrapping around organic and synthetic alike.

“I think you were lucky.”

Rey leaned over towards the General, her similar brown hair spilling out of the three messy buns falling down the back of her head. The woman had pulled up a holograph, shining a blue tint up onto the brunette’s faces.

R2 pushed up a bit in his seat, tilting his head as though it might help him get a glimpse of the image. He was restrained by a lithe hand, and he cut odd coloured eyes over to the side.

“What?” He hissed quietly.

3PO simply gave him a look conveying that he was “being disrespectful”.

“Shut up.”

All eyes shifted over to them. Damn, that was louder than it was meant to be.

“I apologise.”

“Shut up.” He repeated, this time purposefully louder, pushing gently at 3PO’s shoulder. For some reason his hand wouldn’t come back to his side, instead it slid across the blonde’s shoulders until his shoulder was tilted up a bit awkwardly, his large hand draping limply over the taller droid’s opposite shoulder. At some point he had maneuvered their chairs closer. 

_ What...what’s wrong with me? _

__ Had this contact happened at any other time he was sure that it wouldn’t have effected either of them in the slightest, but now the gentle brush of his fingers had 3PO’s cheeks that flattering shade of pink. They didn’t move away from one another, and the group had already disregarded their actions as normal. It was almost like...maybe everyone else knew something that they did not?

Something popped into his mind just then, as an image of the hospital illuminated the space just above the centre of the table. It was soft, distant, laced with a gentle blue glow that momentarily obscured his vision. He was vaguely aware that Leia was walking them through the specs of the hospital, trying to figure where their rooms had been...what they had been, but-

_ “No, I don’t think he likes you at all.” _

__ _ “No, I don’t like you either.” _

She was pointing out a small corridor now, and one of his hands came up of it’s own accord, pushing through the weak binary to cup a little room, his little-

_ “...I’m sure it must be your fault.” _

__ _ “This is all your fault!” _

__ _ “This is all your fault.” _

Something felt strange, his hand tightened on 3PO’s shoulder. Hand grasping awkwardly at the room. He could see prying eyes, white coats, electric currents. And that...that pile of garbled metal. His…

_ “R2, Why do you have to be so brave?” _

Body….

R2 choked, somehow his feet began shifting, his arm snaking back to his side just before he kicked himself back, landing with a hollow thud on his back, head slammed against the floor. He felt that, but just barely. Did it hurt? 

“R2?”

“R2-D2!”

“Quick-!”

“What?”

“3-3PO!”

“No no no no no. Hurry!”

Was that real, or was that...foggy?

Dr. Valurien leaned over him, gentle concern washing over his features. R2 tried to talk, all that came out was a rush of harsh static, bent binary. 


	14. I-

His head was metaphorically spinning, eyes keeping him blind to the rest of the world as he turned haphazardly to the side. The jerky movement sent his body into a violent collision with a solid wall. Waves of pain cascaded down his body from the point of impact on his head. Red flashing lights blared in his conscious unit, screeching sirens a dull sound in the background as images danced in his fore-vision. 

“Calm down, take a moment. You’re alright.” The voice sounded funny. Warped almost.

“You’re doing great.” It was smooth, calming, sickeningly sticky sweet.

A face appeared over him, blurry edges and bright lights.

“He will be alright won’t he? Not that I’m particularly worried mind you, but he will be alright?” That was familiar. A lovely lilting, worried voice. Comforting, slightly panicked, falsely standoffish. 

“I believe so. Actually,” There was a slightly laugh, more of a jarring sound than a carefree one. “He’s done the best of any Astromech unit I’ve ever worked on.  Amazing.” There was a shuffling sound, metallic clinking, and something hovering just above his body. His sensors tingled uncomfortably and a beeping noise played over the sirens in his head, stuttering to a stop as something gently laid protectively on top of his shoulder.

There was a shock, static, and he was letting out garbled strings of mechanised noise once again. Not, binary as usual, or even the basic surrounding him, just nonsense. He arched upwards, body separate from mind. But, he didn’t move at all, not an inch. He felt as though he were watching everything unfold from outside of the shell lying lifelessly in metal casing. The images took on more clarity, though almost dreamlike at the edges.

Colours shook, the figure above his shoulder blurring like a glitch for a moment before adjusting in his line of sight. 

3PO seemed rather shaken, his eyes glued to R2’s new body, the currents jerking it about like nothing more than the empty shell that it seemed to be.

“Sir may I-”

“I’m calibrating the body. It should be ready shortly.”

There was something strange about this. Wrong, weird. A strong force hit him upside the head, pain taking over his body. This was wrong. 

He had woken up, gotten out of that hospital. He had meet 3PO in his new body already. When he met 3PO the droid didn’t recognize him. Why would he?

No, no. This wasn’t a memory. It couldn’t be. This wasn’t right. They had...they had.

Another shock ran through his systems, ringing his bell. Golden eyes were shimmering above him, he could see them as clearly as though his eyes were open, not simply fluttering with calibration. If he could breathe he would be hyperventilating. Panicking. He didn’t panic though, that was better left to 3PO. In fact, said droid seemed to be filling in those shoes fairly well as he hovered uncertainly over R2’s unmoving body. 

There was warmth, bad warmth. It was the kind he experienced before shutting down, before a motivator failure, before a forcible system reboot. It seemed to spread through him like a virus. The sensation had every little piece of circuitry buzzing. It felt...it felt...

The edges of the dream-like vision blurred further and R2 reached out, unable to suppress the feeling of helpless panic as he seemed to fall deeper into the dark. It was as though his already closed eyes were being slowly disconnected, shut off for good. There was nothing there, nothing. The faint sound of voices, sounds of things moving around. The electrical shocks to his system nothing more than a mere tickle at his sensors.

One last time golden eyes came into focus. Partially lit as they would have been before their change into these humanoid frames. It was comforting, strangely enough. 

_ If I don't wake up _ , he thought,  _ at least this will be the last thing that I see _ . Though...thoughts become words more easily than they are repressed.

The eyes above him widened, a chilly pink blush spreading against the tops of synthetically molded cheeks. He was sure that 3PO’s hands came down on his shoulders then, tight as though fighting to hold onto him for dear life. 

He wondered then, had they ever really been apart? The first…the first time had been at the instance of Luke’s leave. It was a painful tear at an inseverable connection. There was a sensor form of immense relief poured over him as he was pulled out of low battery, the depression that gripped him at the absence of his organic equal more than enough to rob him of function, released to rejoin the reb-...resistance.

“R2-” It was soft. Sweet. A gentle lullaby in the distance as he was pulled further, further away.

“R2-” Louder now but still as fuzzy as the images in front of him. Fading, distant, though undeniably the only voice he ever cared to hear.

“R2!” Panic. A familiar emotion, but it wasn't his. An ethereal calm had washed over him, claiming his consciousness in successive waves.

“R2-D2!” There was a jerk. His vision kaleidoscoped for a moment before tunneling down solely to the porcelain face before him. Beautifully crafted. He would personally commend the designer of the unit if he could.

Then a gentle touch. Like silk, golden, soft, shimmering with a touch of pink. 3PO’s lips were on his, and how-

Wait…

3PO WAS KISSING HIM.

KISSING.

THAT WAS-

WAIT-

The darkness pulled at him once again, but suddenly he felt too awake, an uncomfortable and insistent tug a his existence.

HOLY SHIT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep.  
> I hope you guys are still enjoying this, thank you so much for all of the support and comments (and Kudos). It means a lot!
> 
> ~Castor


	15. No You Don't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very lightly hinted Stormpilot here - and R2 ships it.

R2 jolted violently, a spark flying up visibly through his systems as he pulled himself up rapidly. The two droid’s foreheads crashed together violently, and 3PO was several feet away from the bed in mere seconds. It took a few blinks before the astromech was able to process that the odd dreamlike state that he had just been in was just that, a dream. This medical bay was not a sterile hospital base room, but the familiar bay just down the hall from their room on the rebel base. He let out a breath that he didn’t know he had been holding, rough fingers lifting up to rub at the sore spot of impact on his forehead. 

3PO looked a little worse for wear, maybe not as bad as he did considering he was the one on the stiff white bed, but the blond certainly didn’t look quite himself. Whatever had happened in that meeting had gotten to them both in varying degrees, but that’s not what mattered right now.

“R2-D2! It’s about time you woke up you no good, incompetent, overweight glob of grease!” The protocol droid was rubbing at his forehead as well, but worse than that the blonde actually had the audacity to act nonchalant though there was a telltale blush covering his face and beginning to reach down to his chest.

_ Oh no, he is not pretending that that did not happen.  _

He reached out in the others direction, cocking and bending his fingers in a come hither signal. 3PO hesitantly walked forward, mouth still running off about meaningless, nonsensical things probably meant to be insulting. 

_ Just a bit closer, and _ \- 3PO lifted his chin up, nose tilted skyward haughtily, and R2 couldn’t help but roll his eyes fondly at that, sinking his fingers into the soft golden tunic. - _ gotcha _ .

“I’m never letting that happen again.” And with that he pulled 3PO back down, their lips connecting roughly. At first there was resistance, and R2 could feel the others cool blush blazing and spreading down beneath his collar. He gently ran his fingers down the blonde’s side, letting his hand grip the thin waist, his other hand gently cupping an icy porcelain face.

There was a wave of relaxation, and 3PO sunk closer at R2’s insistence. Against his will, the astromech’s face began to bloom with colour as well, a faint blue set beneath lightly tanned synthetic skin. R2 made a soft noise of encouragement, this was so right.

As 3PO slipped onto the bed it was obvious that these bodies were somehow made for each other, and R2 held the other droid tighter. There was a shared signal, frequencies opening up in flooding waves. Affection, fond, sweet, soft, passion, concern, love.

Love. Good maker he was in so deep.

Then 3PO started pulling back, frazzled and with denial running off of him in tangible currents. R2 rolled his eyes again.

“I- goodness. I’m, well-...you must…”

R2-D2 let himself slip for a moment, a hand reaching up to gently tuck a shining strand of golden hair behind a pinked ear.

“I’m never going to let something like that happen again.”

The protocol droid’s blabbering halted as confusion took over his features. He was shifting uncomfortably on the smaller’s lap, and looked very much like he was regretting leaning in for-

“I’m not leaving you again. I promise.”

The blond stopped moving, turning his full attention to the now serious face looking up at him through a messy curtain of dark hair. “What?”

“I’ve…”  _ What am I doing? I don’t need to say these kind of things to him. Doesn’t it...isn’t it...It’s just intrinsic, right? _

“Is your motivator shorting out again?” The lanky droid leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together in a rich connection. As close as he could get to an internal probe without trying to actually open up R2’s chest cavity and plug in. R2 took the opportunity to mold the palm of his hand against 3PO’s cheek, thumb gently brushing over the smooth synthetic skin.

“No.”  _ Maybe? No, no, I know it’s not. I could just flip the conversation back. I didn’t have to make it serious. He doesn’t expect… _ “In the hospital...I had to find you. But, if I hadn’t...if you hadn’t made it in that crash, what would I have done?”

_ I want to look away _ , but he couldn’t. 3PO’s eyes were holding him steadfast, eyebrows furrowed as he pulled back enough to get a full view of the smaller droid’s face. If they had been oxygen intaking organics R2 was sure that they would be able to feel one another's breath cascading over their cheeks.

“What in the universe are you going on about?”

“You. You, I-”  _ DON’T YOU DARE SAY IT OUT LOUD.  _ “I-”

Finn took that opportune moment to waltz in, already going on about what they were going to do next, his speech seemingly directed towards 3PO. It was his walking companion who stopped at the door, an all too familiar smirk stretching across Poe’s lips as he leaned against the door frame. The brunette let out a low whistle.

“Finally.”

Finn turned in confusion, his eyes finally resting on the bed. R2 figured that what he got was not what he expected.

Of course this was a little much, even for them. Being in the same bed? Nothing strange about that, but…3PO sat astride his hips, bent forward slightly at the middle to grasp at the smaller droids shoulders. He was a bit more straightened than before, reflexively stiffening as was embedded into his function when an organic walked into the room. 

The astromech choked back a snort as he gripped 3PO’s hips tightly. If anyone was going anywhere it would be the two organics that had impeccably awful timing.

“Oh my God.” The words came softly out of Finn's mouth, cheeks blazing.

Slowly 3PO seemed to register that he was not in his chair by the bed, not stick straight and attentive to the two men in the room. The blonde's cheeks mirrored Finn’s and his mouth took off like a rocket as he struggled against R2’s unrelenting grip in a frazzled haze.

“Oh my-I...Masters Finn and Poe you must excuse us-I, oh I’m terribly sorry-”

R2 spoke over him easily, head resting back against the wall behind him. “What was it that you came in for?”

Poe shifted off of the doorframe then, still smiling. “Well, we wanted you to know that first off, we’ve shifted your rooms. There are more ports in this one, and less organic based accoutrements. Secondly, we’re working on a system update for both of your signaling dispense and receptors so that we have the ability for more advanced communication. And last but not least, we’re going to need you to meet with us one last time. And be prepared.”

R2 nodded, his voice still cutting over the protocol droids needless apologies. The words being taken on by an equally flustered and uncomfortable Finn. “Consider it done.”

“Thanks bud.” The brunette reached out, hand tucking itself into a white regulation shirt and gently pulling at the dark skinned man. “Let’s go Finn.”

“But-but…” The former stormtrooper seemed at a loss for words, as though he were still trying to process what was happening. R2 shot him a devious smile as the pilot gently pressed the space between his shoulders until he was out of the room. He would have to start a bet on them, it was only fair.

“And R2,” Poe threw back a fodder eating grin. “Way to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, look at that. They actually are going to admi- oh wait no, hello again Finn.  
> Hope you guys are still enjoying it!  
> Comments make the story better and the admin happy!
> 
> ~Castor


	16. What's Wrong With Us?

He was still a little bitter, to be honest. It had been almost an hour since 3PO had removed himself from R2’s lap, going back to pretending as though nothing at all had happened, regardless of the fact that R2 had been the instigator of that farking awesome kiss. So yes, he was a bit bitter. Though, he couldn’t blame the two men who had interrupted his near confession.

Well...he could, but he opted instead to mercilessly teasing 3PO to the extent of his abilities. The normalcy was appreciated despite all of the circumstances taking place. After removing himself from the bed, his fingers found themselves constantly tugging at the ends of the golden tunic as 3PO walked around the room, busy tidying anything and everything he thought was out of place. Sometimes his eyes would cut back to R2 disapprovingly, but he said nothing as R2 pulled off the paper thin medical gown that they had put on him.

The cavity in his chest was partially cracked, probably for port access to keep him from slipping back into low power mode. His bottoms had slipped low on his hips, barely holding on. Deft fingers pressed at the chest cavity, but it wouldn’t close, providing his fingertips with a small shock. He shook out his hand and though it might get rid of the slight burning sensation.

There was a noise, equivalent to a sigh but with a certain mechanical sound.

“Come here you useless little rust bucket.” 3PO met his halfway, lifting up his hands to gently press in at the edges of the synthetic skin. “You’re doing it wrong.”

How he came to that conclusion, R2 didn’t know. The ends of the protocol droid’s fingers were soft and cool as they just barely sunk into the soft skin, pushing together the edges of the plates seamlessly. R2 found his eyes drawn to the droids face as mesmerizing golden eyes fixed on the sealing edges with a look of concentration. 

There was a barely audible hiss and a faint noise at the back of his consciousness telling him that the plates were in correct placement, and that his chest cavity was securely fastened.

R2 lifted up his own hands, gently trailing them along 3PO’s collar, and suddenly he was struck by an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. One of R2’ main directives was to fix 3PO when he was torn apart. It wasn’t a direct order, it was more of something that he had assigned to himself over the years, but now...he had no way of really know what to do given a circumstance in which 3PO needed fixing.

The thought caused his fingers to tighten around thin shoulders, and 3PO flinched at that, eyes finding the shorter droids as they solemnly stared off into the distance.

“Ouch, you little monster!” Pale hands came up to push at the rough ones pushing increasingly deeper into his synthetic skin. “R2! R2-D2 what in the world is wrong with you?”

He suddenly pulled his hands back, waving off the other droid in the kind of cool indifference that 3PO often used to deny R2 something -whether it was gratefulness, or a reaction that the smaller droid was hoping to pull out through either words or actions.

“Don’t you wave me off!” The taller droid grabbed at him.

“Hey! It’s nothing goldenrod. Let’s go.”

3PO shook his head. The plait he had weaved so neatly that morning was now starting to fray. R2 wanted to touch the end of it. To feel the soft golden strands caress his fingers, but he kept his hands to himself, jauntily walking towards the door. The movement was slowed by the hands gripping at his waist, uselessly trying to pull him backwards. 

He smiled despite himself at the sound of 3PO’s feet dragging against the ground as he tried to keep the astromech in place.

“You’re not even wearing a shirt!”

R2 rolled his eyes, reluctantly coming to a stop. “Fine.”

Golden eyes blinked owlishly for a few seconds before it clicked that R2 was indirectly asking him to grab the tunic lying at the foot of the bed. He turned to watch the protocol droid’s graceful movements. The way that he walked, moved, was so different than before. Like a delicate dance, if one were not able to see the movement of his feet it would seem as if the droid we're floating.

3PO held the fabric just in front of him, and in that moment R2 knew that he was not getting out of that room without a confrontation. Well, two could play at that game. This mindless philosopher seemed to forget that he was blatantly ignoring, and denying the kiss that had literally happened only a little over an hour ago.

“What is it.” It wasn’t really a question, but the taller droid looked at him expectantly afterwards.

“I’ll answer you if you answer me.”

There was a beat of silence. “Alright you child. What?”

R2 let a devilish smirk curl up the edges of his lips before pulling 3PO forcefully down into a bruising kiss. The other droid made a short noise of protest, but R2 took note of how his lithe fingers came to rest comfortably on his shoulders. There was a certain level of resignation with that motion, and something told R2 that this kiss in particular would not go forgotten.

He pulled back an inch. “You go first?”

A scowl tugged at pink lips, the cheeks just above tinted beautifully. “Little demon. What was that earlier?”

He looked up for a moment, eyes tracing the ugly soddering on the ceiling. He could have done better with his visual sensors shut off.

“R2.” That was a more forceful tone, one that most people who were not R2-D2 would never expect or have the particular honour of hearing.

He tried to let out the sighing sound that 3PO seemed to have perfected since they had left the hospital. It didn’t come out right, sounding more like a pained mechanical gargle than anything else. Damn it.

Maybe it was in 3PO’s programming to adapt in ways of exasperation and pessimism.

“I can’t fix you.”

“Excuse me.”

He rolled his eyes again, this time in full view of the other droid.

“It wasn’t an insult. I meant that if you broke, short circuited...anything that you’re prone to in dangerous situations...I can’t fix you anymore. I don’t know anything about these bodies.”

“That’s absurd.”

“What?”

“R2, you may be insufferable but I have no reason to believe that you wouldn’t be able to figure out how these bodies work in such a short span of time that an organic would hardly be able to notice your deficiency of information.”

R2 slowly smiled. He suddenly wanted to kiss 3PO again. “I thought it was your job to put me down.”

The protocol droid had the gall to look offended by that. “I do no such thing!”

“Sure.”

There was a static huffing noise, and 3PO began to pull away. R2’s hands deftly curled around the droids trim waist. 

“Oh no you don’t, you still haven’t answered my question.”

The pink came back with a vengeance, taking over the taller droid’s pale cheeks. He opened his mouth, but R2 beat him to the chase.

“Why are you pretending that everything organically intimate we do doesn’t happen?”

“Well I...I’m not-you-I’m-”

“3PO.” He mimicked the droid’s earlier tone.

“R2, we’re droids. It’s not in our function to become intimate in such a way. We are not meant to find such an….emotional comfort in one another. It’s not-” He cut off the others building lecture.

“So what? We’ve never been like other droids. Does it really bother you that much? Do _ I  _ really bother-”

“No, no-yes-no…” There was a garbled noise of frustration. “R2!”

“What-” He couldn’t keep the faint touch of hurt anger from his voice. It was stupid, silly. He shouldn’t really feel emotions, but as long as he had been around there had been things much more surprising and out of place than a droid that developed not only a distinct personality, but also distinct emotions.

But surprise was certainly an emotion that he had become closely acquainted with, and this was no exception. Shortly after the curt beginning of his defense 3PO swallowed his words, lips melting slowly into each other as their hands grasped at synthetic skin for dear life. 

It took him less than a minute to react, quickly linking his arms around 3PO’s waist and pulling their bodies as close together as he could get them. R2 opened up several of his channels, a familiar feeling flooding through him as their consciousness connected as they usually would have in an attempt to contact or sense one another when separated. Shivers ran up his back as a desperate feeling coursed through him. 3PO pulled back long enough to murmur something like, “We should go to…” But R2 pulled him back down, only releasing him after he was sure he had swallowed the last of the words sure to be about yet another meeting.

When they did pull apart there was a small buzzing sound from both of their cooling fans.

“What’s wrong with us?” He laughed out, letting his forehead drop to 3PO’s chest.

He could feel the small movement as 3PO shook his head. “I blame you for any discrepancies to my original function.”

He snorted. “Anyway, don’t you think we should figure at least some of this out?”

“What?”

“We can’t just end every conversation that we have by kissing and then walking off to a meeting or whatever.”

3PO looked away for a moment, discomfort twisting his features. R2 knew that look, the one that meant if he was able to get away he would pretend that none of this had ever happened. It was a sort of defence mechanism, one that he had utilized since the first time R2 had met him.

“No excuses.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's trying. Really he is.  
> Address the mess. Don't give up....
> 
> ~Castor


	17. We are DROIDS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It looks like...

“Excuses?”

“Don’t act surprised, you’re the king of excuses.”

3PO looked offended at that, but before he was able to retort, R2 gave him a warning look. One that said,  _ we were talking, let’s finish that conversation first. _

__ “What exactly is it that you find a problem?”

R2 gave him an incredulous look, the words that had threatened to bubble up earlier weighing heavily on his tongue. He could say it. Would it change anything? Just right there, those words. He put up a mental block. 

“Oh, I don’t know...maybe just the fact that you’ve become the largest kiss and run perpetrator I’ve ever met.”

Then other droid didn’t have the gall to protest him, simply turning his eyes down in something of a mixture of guilt and embarrassment. The emotions were almost painfully evident and despite the firm mental wall R2 felt those words bubbling up once again. These new bodies seemed to make everything harder. Harder than it needed to be.

Is this how humanoid organics always felt?

“I...R2, is this really something that you can blame me for? We’re droids. I know that we are both aware that the particular nature of our relationship is very rare and somewhat strange in the realm of droids. We are not programmed to protect one another. We are not programmed to stay with one another. We are not programmed to be loyal to-”

“But we are. 3PO, it’s time to let go of function.”

“Excuse me?” 3PO tried to take a step back but R2 held him firmly. There was a strong compulsion then to lay his forehead gently against 3PO’s collar. 

“We. Are. Droids. No matter what your distorted systems have conceived as a truth, or dysfunctionally contrived headstrong “attitude” has convinced you of. We are not organic. We are not the humans that were were designed to serve.”

3PO was struggling and R2’s fingers dug deeply into his sides.

“I was built for service. I am a protocol droid, and you are an astromech. We met by sheer happenstance, and the only reason for our artificial friendship, of sorts, is due to the situation which we were thrust into. I am meant for translation, PROTOCOL. My function is to work with elite, to translate, to decode, to fix, to dress, to help those I am in the charge of. You are an Astromech. Your function is as a mechanic. Your circuitry should not allow for your discrepancies-”

“Oh, shut up!”

3PO blinked owlishly a few times.

“When will you realise that not everything works out exactly as it should? You’re supposed to be smart aren’t you?”

“Well I-”

R2 held him tighter. Small currents of electricity were causing a low buzzing sound to come from his systems, the protocol droid’s hands were clenching and unclenching on his shoulders as the shocks were conducted through R2’s synthetic skin to 3PO.

“Why can’t you just believe that we’re different? We would never leave each other behind, whether we wanted to or not. We have been together for too long- we, we-we-” his vocals began repeating, and 3PO’s fingers dug into his shoulders just as much as his fingers dug into 3PO’s side.

“R2 calm down, you’re getting too worked up. Your systems can’t-”

“NO! N-N-Nah-n-n-n-”

“R-”

“I LOVE YOU GODAMMIT YOU FARKING, YO-YOU-” His systems let out a garbled noise akin to a sob and 3PO looked about ready to fall backwards.

The droid shook his violently before cuffing him roughly on his head, jarring his systems. “What?” Another cuff. “What!?”

He shook his head, systems promptly rebooting. Though due to the process being internal this did nothing to stop the increasingly violent cuffs being delivered to his head. 

“Quit that!”

“What did you say?”

This time he did let his forehead fall to 3PO’s collar. For the first time in his many turns in this universe he felt irredeemably embarrassed. 

“R2 you-”

“If you say I can’t I am going to rip out your vocals.”

He felt 3PO shake his head. He was trying to pull away again, and no way in hell was that happening.

“R2, we-”

“3PO.” If he could have mastered the art of the organic sigh as his counterpart seemed to have done, he would have sighed just then. “Let’s just go to the-”

“You’re an incorrigible, insolent, unreliable, awful little monster. How do I love you as well. I’ve no need or function to. I blame you.”

R2 choked. “You-”

A sigh. Damn, how the farking hell did he do that?

“Yes. I do not wish to, and I firmly believe in what I said, but-”

When R2 looked back up there was a solemn sort of sadness in 3PO’s eyes. It took R2 aback for a few seconds before he realised that his overwhelmed short-circuiting had re-jogged 3PO’s memory of each of his destruction's. That he had scared the other droid.

“I deplore these feelings. I detest your circuitry. I’m appalled by my own functions and-”

R2 nearly attacked him, tipping them both to the floor. He pulled back with whooping laughter, gently tucking frayed golden hair behind elegantly pale ears. 3PO looked shocked, appalled for a moment before his own laughter seemed triggered by R2’s. Wow.

“Wow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that took long enough there guys, huh?  
> These dorks.  
> -Castor


	18. Ah, Just What We Wanted To Do

To be completely honest, not much threw R2 off, but he had a slightly sinking feeling as they walked in through large mechanical doors. On top of that, his hand was resting somewhat possessively at the small of 3PO’s back, and though the other droid had originally shot him a look of disapproval, the hand stayed where it was. He and Poe discreetly clasped opposite hands at the door in passing, the pilot giving him a somewhat knowing wink.

The atmosphere was almost strangely relaxed, and of course their proximity was nothing new to any of them. He thought, for a moment, that perhaps they had known something far before the two of them had. Regardless…

“Please sit, all of you.”

Oh, he wanted to pull 3PO into his lap so badly. Could you imagine the look on his face? The blush on his cheeks? The indignant sounds that he would no doubt make? But...alas. R2 did have some level of respect, even if it wasn't necessarily aimed towards 3PO’s somewhat prudish manor. He pushed down a smile as a laugh, clear like the toll of a bell, rang out in his head at the sight of pink lips tilted in a slight smile.  _ I’m so screwed… _

“Now, we won’t be going too far into detail to avoid any...unwanted reactions.”

He stayed straight, shoulders rolled back confidently.

General Organa’s voice was strong and sure, but her eyes conveyed nothing but care towards the two droids that had been by her side since the beginning of this crazy journey.

_ Thanks Princess _ , he mouthed. That garnered him a fond eye roll, at least, he was going to say it was found.

“However, we are meeting about the so called “hospital” that R2-D2 and C-3PO came from.” A holo-image popped up from the centre of the table, casting a faint blue glow around the room. There at the very center of what looked like a sort of ghost town, was a large building that seemed to just be pushing out from the dry Earth. Those were the upper levels, branching out like ribbons of intricate circuitry. 

“This “hospital” is not registered or licensed, and does not appear on any general level holo-net inputs. However, through a base level evaluation of both droids we can clearly see that they are in possession of very advanced machinery. I also have reason for suspicion of this facility as, through some of our smugglers and transports, I have gathered information on a potentially dangerous compound known for taking things and people in, and never letting them back out.” 

Poe gave an affirmative nod. “I’ve heard some similar things from my squad. Would you like me to do a reconnaissance fly-by General?”

“Thank you mister Dameron, but no. We are planning to infiltrate the facilities in order to assess their standing as well as any potential threats.”

That didn’t sound particularly appealing.

“I’ll need an expert team. People who are well trained and good in stealth reconnaissance. And no-”

She held up her hand in R2’s direction just as his lips began to part.

“You two will not be going.”

“Leia, we made it out once. What-”

3PO was shifting uncomfortably, eyes darting back and forth as though judging the perfect opportunity to pitch in.

“That in no way means that you will make it out again, the first escape was lucky.”

“If-If I may.” 3PO interjected, a tinge of hesitation and anxiety threading delicately through his voice. “Though I’m in no way inclined to offer my assistance in such an area, I do believe that R2 and myself may very well be useful as our conscious units tend to be more advanced and controlled than those of other droids. This combined with our earlier housing in the facility, this may make us something of an advantage.”

All eyes were on them, but it took very little time for R2 to see a winning hand when he was dealt one. But who knew that it would be 3PO who would advocate for such a thing. Maybe he was rubbing off on the other droid a bit more than he had originally thought.

“Don’t worry.” He leaned forward,  a cocky grin spreading across his face. “I’ll bring him back in one piece.”

As the room filled with a dull buzz of noise, plans, preparations, teams, equipment, rescue, he turned to catch golden eyes. They exchanged short looks and R2 tugged the protocol droid a bit closer, their fingers intertwining over 3PO’s waist. Looks like they were going back. He always did like a challenge...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An here it comes to a close,  
> but not completely.  
> You may have noticed that this work is a part of a series.  
> If I do get enough interest in this story, and this universe, being continued I will be making it into a series, and may even without any of that.  
> I really hope that you all enjoyed this story and I appreciate all of the wonderful comments that I've gotten over the course of this fic. Thank you so much!
> 
> -Castor

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that you enjoyed!  
> Feedback is appreciated.
> 
> ~Castor


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